Kelly, George. 


Torch-bearers. 


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| THE TORCH-BEARERS 


"By GEORGE KELLY 


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ern costumes. 


Never has an audience seen a more pe ¢ 
Purity Dean; a more fiercely moustached 
Frothingham; or\a nobler hero than ‘Lean 
works in a pickle factory. Purity and Lea 
in love, but Mortimer would press his a 
willing Purity and win her by fair means 
a campaign of villainy which includes Io 
room with a time bomb. But to Morti 
the young lovers win through. Pu 
heiress, and the final curtains sees her 
Leander’s broad and manly bosom. T 
old-time melodrama style, combining the. 
all of them, but it is played in mode 


(Royalty, $25.00.) Price, 75 cents, 


LAVENDER AND Ol 


Comedy-drama. 3 acts. By Rose 
6 females. Interior. Modern costu 
Mary Ainslie, a gracious little New E 
come a legend because of her lavender, 
lighted lamps burning brightly in her ai 
with her is Ruth Thorne, a neighbor's 1 
young newspaperman, comes to the vill 
introduction to Ruth. They fall in love | 
their happiness is marred when Carl 
blinds him. Mary steps forth to help ) 
bea a scene that is gripping and filled w 
Ainslie steps forth and reveals her” 

live such a strange life. This is a play 
that is uplifting and skillfully written. 
modern portrait of pf pape ae day life witl 
scenes and a touch of heart-warming tend 
(Royalty, $25.00.) Price, 75 cents. 


RDDDOOOOOGHSOHOHOOOGOOOOOHSS 


The Torch-Bearers 


A SATIRICAL COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 


BY 
GEORGE KELLY 


Preface by 
KENNETH MACGOWAN 


All Rights Reserved 


CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 


that “THE TORCHBEARERS,” being fully protected 
under the copyright laws of the United States, British 
Empire, and the other countries of the Copyright Union, 
is subject to a royalty, and any one presenting the play 
without the consent of the author or his authorized 
agents will be liable to the penalties by law provided. 
Applications for the amateur acting rights must be made 
to SaAmMuEL FrencH, 25 West 45th Street, New York. 
Applications for the professional acting rights must be 
made to The Co-National Play Company, Inc., 1545 
Broadway, New York. 


New Yorr Lonpon 
SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH, Lv. 
PUBLISHER 26 SouTHAMPTON STREET 


25 West 45TH STREET STRAND 


CopyRIGHT, 1922, By GEORGE KELLY 
CopyYRIGHT, 1923, By AMERICAN LIBRARY SERVICE 
REVISED, 1924, By GEoRGE KELLY 
CopyRIGHT, 1924, By GEorRGE KELLY 
All Rights Reserved 


Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this 
book without a valid contract for production first having been 
obtained from the publisher, confers no right or license to 
professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or in 
private for gain or charity. 


In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performance, representation, production, 
recitation, public reading or radio broadcasting may be given 
except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 25 West 
45th Street, New York. 


Amateur royalty quoted on application. 


Whenever the play is produced by amateurs the following 
notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising 
for the play: “Produced by special arrangement with Samuel 
French of New York.” 


Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any 
infringement of the author’s rights, as follows: 


“SECTION 4966:—Any person publicly performing or rep- 
resenting any dramatic or musical. composition for which 
copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the pro- 
prietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs 
and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages, 
in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one 
hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subse- 
quent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If 
the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and 
for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misde- 
meanor, and upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period 
not exceeding one year.”—U. S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, 
Chap. 3. 


“The Torch-Bearers”’ 


Printed in the United States of America by 


THE RICHMOND HILL RECORD, RICHMOND HILL, N.Y. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 


“THE TORCH-BEARERS,” by George Kelly, 
was presented by Stewart and French for the first 
time on any stage at the Savoy Theatre, Asbury 
Park, New Jersey, on the night of Monday, August 
14, 1922, with the following cast: 


Mr. FREDERICK RITTER Mr. ArtTHuR SHAW 
Mr. Huxtey HosserrossE Mr. Doucias GARDEN 
Mr. SPINDLER Mr. EpwArp REESE 
Mr. Ratpu Twitter Mr. Booth Howarp 
TEDDY SPEARING Mr. WILLIAM CASTLE 
Mr. STAGE MANAGER Mr. J. A. Curtis 

Mrs. PAuLA RITTER Miss Mary BoLtanp 
Mrs. J. Duro Pamprnettr Muss ALIson SKIPwoRTH 
Mrs. Netty FeLi Miss HeLt—en Lowey 
Miss FLrorENcE McCricxetr Miss Rost Mary Kine 
Mrs. Clara SHEPPARD Miss Daisy ATHERTON 
JENNY Miss Mary GILDEA 


Play staged by the Author. 


Note.—The form of the present manuscript is ex- 
actly that in which this play was presented during its 
run at the Vanderbilt Theatre, New York City, New 
York.—TuHE AUTHOR. 


CAST 


Mr. FrepericK Ritter 

Mr. Huxiey Hosserrosse 

Mr. SPINDLER 

- Mr. Ratpu Twitter 

TEppy SPEARING 

Mr. Stace MANAGER 

Mrs. Pauta Ritter (Ritter’s wife) 
Mrs. J. Duro PAMPINELLI 

Mrs. Netty FELL 

Miss FLorENcE McCricKketr 
Mrs. Clara SHEPPARD 

JENNY (a housemaid at Ritter’s) 


SCENE 


Act I. A kind of drawing-room in the home of 
FREDERICK RITTER, on an evening in October, 
about eight o'clock. 

Act Il. Behind the scenes at Horticultural Hall, the 
following evening at eight-thirty. 

Act III. The drawing-room at RitTER’s, two hours 
later. 


PREFACE 


I cannot remember if it was one of those torrid 
and terrible nights of August when the chain-gang 
of New York’s critics was tolled off to the Forty- 
eighth Street Theatre for the premiére of “The 
Torch-Bearers.” But I do know that the general 
atmosphere of oppression—physical, mental, profes- 
sional—was a little denser than usual. In the first 
twenty-eight days of August, 1922, managements too 
daring or too resourceless to wait for September had 
deluged us with a steady stream of inanity, and here 
was another dousing in prospect. If it wasn’t the 
heat, it was certainly the humidity of theatrical Au- 
gust. Unknown play, new producers, author’s name 
vaguely connected with vaudeville; altogether a pro- 
duction so little esteemed by the booking powers that 
it had to slip into a few weeks before the Equity 
Players began their season at this theatre. It could 
have been a night of Elysian coolness, and still we 
would have been expecting the worst. It could have 
been mid-April, and still we should have found an 
almost ineffable freshness in the breeze of George 
Kelly’s little comedy. 

The cold, historical fact is that at about 9:15 
o’clock on the evening of August 29th, 1922, five or 
six hundred average New Yorkers, two or three hun- 
dred friends of the management, and about fifty 
sophisticated first-nighters were in grave danger of 
rolling off their seats in hysteria because of “The 
Torch-Bearers.” 


9 


10 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


The intermissions were filled with three questions 
which more or less concern the reader of the pub- 
lished play. Who was George Kelly? Where did 
he get the comedy? How would it go? 

On August 29th, 1922, George Kelly was a per- 
fectly good Philadelphian in his late twenties who 
was much better known to vaudeville than to fame. 
He had written, directed, and played in about a 
dozen one-act comedies and dramas on Keith and 
Orpheum time. He had begun by quitting his fam- 
ily’s private tutor to try acting in a playlet by the 
late Paul Armstrong. Then—with no more prepa- 
ration, apparently—he had begun to write his own 
vehicles. A certain drama in France absorbed his 
attentions for a while. After that more “sketches” 
—as the vaudeville powers call any effort above vo- 
cal or bodily acrobatics—and suddenly a play. 

The origin of “The Torch-Bearers” was simple 
enough. Kelly wrote the kind of tight, effective 
short plays that amateur actors and little theatre di- 
rectors are always looking for. He had a perfectly 
good Philadelphia family behind him. And so he 
was being invited to lunch every now and then by 
the Pampinellis of the cities in which he played. To 
hear them was enough. They had to live a wider 
life. 

“The Torch-Bearers” passed a prosperous term on 
Broadway, and I think it will go far in the little 
theatres which it satirizes. But upon the opening 
night I remember much dubious debate about its 
chances. We had laughed ourselves almost literally 
sick, and at the end of the second intermission we 
had not yet seen the rather prosy last act. Yet— 
conscious of our personal superiority—we wondered. 
. . . Brander Matthews and Aristotle would scoff at 
it, George M. Cohan and—Professor Baker would 
scowl. “The Torch-Bearers”’ broke all the rules, and 


THE TORCH-BEARERS II 


it had no plot. Obviously, by all the rules, it ought 
to fail. 

There may be a good many reasons why it didn’t, 
and some may lead you far into aesthetic explora- 
tions of the present breakdown of dramatic form 
all over the world. But the reader will find more 
cogent reasons in the pages that follow this intro- 
duction. Personally, I should put it down to the fact 
that the character-study of the first act and the ho- 
kum of the second are irresistible. We have all met 
our Pampinellis, and we have all seen the lady 
prompter take a curtain call, or had our mustache 
fall off in the big scene. We can never resist some 
characterization on the stage, and as for such hokum 
as this record of all the mishaps of the amateur 
actor, ill luck is the heart of broad comedy and when 
ill luck comes where it is most painful—in personal 
display—Cassandra herself must smile. 

There were other things to make the death-watch 
wonder whether “The Torch-Bearers” could live. 
It was satire. Satire is not ordinarily a popular 
commodity in the theatre. It defeats sympathy, and 
sympathy is necessary to emotion, and emotion to 
theatrical success. 

Satire has had its great moments, however, in the 
history of the drama. Aristophanes made merry 
over the fashions, foibles, and philosophies of 
Athens. Satire was Moliére’s stock in trade. Shaw 
has done very well by poking a finger at society. 
Every nation has at least one outstanding theatrical 
satire to its credit. But for the war, the wise of 
Paris might still be laughing at the French Academy 
because of de Flers and de Caillavet’s “L’Habit 
Vert.” England has “The School for Scandal,” as 
Ireland has “The Playboy” and “John Bull’s Other 
Island.” Germany, though a little heavy in the the- 
atre, can still point to Schnitzler’s “Literature.” 


——— 


ee 


12 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Just at the moment America is beginning to dis- 
play a surprising fondness for theatrical satire. Be- 
ginning is hardly the word, perhaps, for the first 
American drama, “The Contrast,” lampooned so- 
ciety with a large “S”; “Fashion,” our first play by 
a woman, spoke out smartly against the smart world, 
and from “Our American Cousin” down to date, so 
many of our playwrights have spoofed the alien and 
the aristocratic for the benefit of the homespun, that 
it is only by a hair that I can risk the statement that 
it is a “surprising fondness” which we now display 
for satire. America has always enjoyed its irreverent 
moments in the theatre, but it has seldom gone in 
for whole plays devoted to almost nothing but lam- 
pooning. 

in the last three seasons, however, the distinctly 
satirical play has climbed noticeably in favor. In 
1919-20 there was nothing of the kind to be seen on 
Broadway. In 1920-21 came Porter Emerson 
Browne’s Mexican melodrama “The Bad Man,” with 
most of its success due to sly digs at both sides of 
the international line, and George M. Cohan’s joke at 
the expense of audiences as well as playwrights, 
“The Tavern.” Last season, playgoers good-hu- 
moredly made a satire out of the deadly serious ab- 
surdities of the British melodrama, “Bulldog Drum- 
mond”; the “Chauve-Souris” twitted Russian drama 
a little—in Russian; and the firm of Kaufman and 
Connelly began in “Dulcy” and “To the Ladies!” to 
vend biting wit at the expense of scenario writers 
and advertisers, efficiency experts and after-dinner 
speakers. 

This season a perfect flood of satire broke upon 
us, most of it very good indeed, and some of it des- 
tined to be successful with a large public. Besides 
“The Torch-Bearers,” there have been “R. U. R.,” 
grim sarcasm upon labor and capital, and a new bill 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 13 


of the “Chauve-Souris,” the Kaufman-Connelly ver- 
sion of Henry Leon Wilson’s “Merton of the Mov- 
ies,” “Six Characters in Search of an Author,” from 
the Italian, and “The World We Live In,” the insect 
comedy from the Czecho-Slovak. 

The future of “The Torch-Bearers,” now that its 
Broadway career is over, brings us up against the 
little theatre movement. I am very much in favor 
of that odd and amazing phenomenon. I believe a 
great deal of the promise of the American stage 
outside New York and a surprising amount of its 
present accomplishment in that metropolis, is due to 
the uncontrollable desire of people not so very unlike 
Mrs. Pampinelli to produce plays. Kelly’s satire 
touches the lower fringes of what Mrs. P. calls “the 
movement,” but it might be directed at Maurice 
Browne, Sam Hume, and Irving Pichel and the little 
theatre would still go on, and “The Torch-Bearers” 
would become—as I am sure it will—one of the most 
popular pieces in the repertory of the amateur actor. 
Many a Mrs. Pampinelli, safe in the sense of her 
own self-importance, will do for “The Torch-Bear- 
ers” all that Mrs. P. did—which is, as Kelly ob- 
serves, to “tell the players where to go on the stage, 
so they won’t, be running into each other.” 

But there is art in this play—not mere observation 
—and I am afraid none of the Pampinellis who are 
to be concerned with its future will ever quite equal 
the person that the author and Alison Skipworth, the 
actress, created between them. I do not look for 
any moment so extraordinary as when Mrs. Pam- 
pinelli, discussing the fatalities invariably connected 
with these amateur performances, reaches her perora- 
tion: “We are not dismayed; we have the lessons of 
history to fortify us: for whenever the torch of 
essential culture has been raised (She raises the lead- 
pencil as though it were a torch), there has unfail- 


EE er ee 


14 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


ingly been the concomitant exactment of a human 
life.” For one cannot expect to find a cuckoo-clock 
always present with its sapient comment at such a 
moment. 

The reader will find the cuckoo-clock, the satire, 
and the hokum for himself. He will also detect, I 
think, a strain of divine and devilish madness in 
Kelly which promises something of genius for the 
American drama. The reader may note, too, in 
Kelly’s script the kind of practical qualification for 
the theatre of which Mr. Ritter speaks feelingly on 
page 62. This qualification has produced extraordi- 
narily effective humor and something else. This is 
a sense for stage management. It makes Kelly a 
rare and precious figure in our theatre, and gives 
you a script to read—or to produce—that is liberally 
supplied with every bit of business and direction 
necessay for putting on the play—either in the 
Cohoes Little Theatre or your own imagination. 

KENNETH MacGowAN. 

Pelham Manor, N. Y., February 25, 1923. 


Note: The drawing-room at Ritter’s, in which 
the first and last acts are laid, is a comfortable-look- 
ing room, suggestive of good circumstance. Toward 
the back there is a fancy wooden partition separating 
the hallway from the room proper. This partition 
begins rather high up on the side walls and curves 
deeply down to two ornamental columns, five feet 
high and set about five feet apart, forming the en- 
trance from the hallway to the room. Straight out 
through this entrance, and paralleling the partition, 
is the staircase, running up to the left and through 
an arched doorway. The foot of the staircase is 
just to the right of the center door; and then the 
hallway continues on out to the front door. On the 
left, there is a passageway between the staircase and 
the partition, running through an arched doorway to 
the body of the house. In the room proper, breaking 
the angle of the right wall and the partition, is a 
door, opening out, and below this door, a casement- 
window. On the left, breaking the angle of the left 
wall and the partition, is the mantelpiece, and below 
it a door, opening out. Just inside the partition, on 
either side of the centre-door, is a built-in seat. 

The entire room and hallway is done in a scheme 
of silver and the lighter shades of green. All the 
woodwork and furniture, including the piano and 
mantelpiece, is finished in silver-green, and the walls 
and ceiling are in blended tones of orchid, gray and 
green, decorated with tapestried panel-effects. The 
carpet is gray-green, and the vases and clock on the 
mantelpiece, as well as the little cuckoo-clock over 
the door at the left, are green. The drapes on the 


15 


16 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


casement-window and the doorways, at the head of 
the stairs and in the left hallway, are in rose-colored 
brocaded satin; and the pads on the partition-seats 
are covered with the same material. The piano- 
throw is a garishly subdued blend of old-rose, Nile 
green and canary-colored silk. 

Right out between the little wooden columns of 
the centre door, set flat against the staircase, is a 
small console-table, holding a most beautiful rose- 
colored vase filled with wisteria; and on the piano 
there is a similar vase filled with white and yellow 
blossoms. On either side of the console-table there 
is a tall torchiere with a rose-colored shade; and the 
shades on the wall-lights, and the one on the lovely 
rose-colored vase-lamp on the table down at the right 
below the csement-window, are all rose-colored. 

There’s a brilliant array of cushions about the 
room, all shapes and sizes, and every color of the 
rainbow,—and many books and magazines. The 
piano, up at the right, is littered with music, ciga- 
rettes, in a fancy container, flowers and candy—in a 
pretty box made of pink satin. 

The two armchairs in the room, one just to the 
left of the table below the window, and the other at 
the left side of the table over at the left, are over- 
stuffed in green-and-silver brocade. 

There is a small table below the piano, with a light 
little chair beside it, the left side, and there is a simi- 
lar chair over at the extreme left, below the door. 

The keyboard of the piano parallels the right wall, 
with enough room, of course, between the piano- 
stool and wall to permit of easy use of the door. 
There must also be room enough above the piano 
for a passageway between it and the partition-seat. 

The rights and lefts employed in the foregoing de- 
scriptions are, of course, the player’s rights and lefts. 


The Torch-Bearers 
ACT I 


After a slight pause, a door out at the right is heard 
to close, and immediately Mr. RITTER comes 
along the hallway beyond the partition and into 
the room. He ts a brisk, rather stocky type of 
man, in his early forties, wearing a brown suit 
and overcoat, a derby hat, and carrying a suit- 
case. He sets the suitcase down on the parti- 
tion-seat at the right, and, with a glance around 
the room, at the unusual arrangement of the 
furniture, starts out into the hallway again, re- 
moving his gloves and overcoat. He glances 
along the hallway to the left and up the stairs as 
he goes. JENNY comes along the hallway from 
the left carrying a small light chair. As she is 
about to come into the drawing-room proper 
from the hallway, she becomes conscious of Mr. 
RitTER out at the hall-rack at the right. She 
stops and peers in that direction. She ts a pleas- 
ant litile English person, plump and trim, 
dressed in the regulation parlor-maid’s black 
and white. 


Jenny. Is that you, Mr. Ritter? 
Ritter. That’s who it is, Jenny! How are you? 
Jenny. (Bringing the little chair forward and 


17 


ee 


~  e 


18 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


placing it above the little table at the left) Pretty 
well, thanks, Mr. Ritter. How are you? 

Ritter. (Coming along the hallway from the 
right) J’m whatever you are, Jenny. (JENNY gives 
a faint litile laugh and proceeds with her arrange- 
ments, and RITTER picks up several telegrams from 
the stand in the hallway, just to the left of the cen- 
ter entrance.) 

Jenny. Ain’t you back a bit soon? 

Ritter. (Coming forward to the small table at 
the right, below the piano) Yes, I thought I'd have 
to go down to Cincinnati for a week or two, but I 
didn’t. 

Jenny. Mrs. Ritter ain’t expectin you, is she? 

Ritter. (Glancing through the telegrams) No 
she isn’t, Jenny. 

Jenny. I thought I didn’t remember hearin’ her 
sayin’ nothin’. 

Ritter. Where is she? 

Jenny. (Starting for the hallway) She’s up- 
stairs, sir. I'll call her. 

Ritter. (With a glance at the furniture) What 
are you doing around here, Jenny, housecleaning ? 

Jenny. (Turning and coming back) No, sir, 
there’s a rehearsal here tonight. (RiITTER stops 
reading and looks at her quizzically for a second.) 

Ritter. What kind of a rehearsal?” 

Jenny. Why, a rehearsal for a show that Mrs. 
Ritter’s takin’ part in tomorrow night. They done 
it at the Civic Club the week after you went away, 
and they liked it so well they’re doin’ it again tomor- 
row night. 

Ritter. Who liked it? 

Jenny. Sir? 

Ritter. I say, who liked it so well that they’re 
doing it again? 

Jenny. Why, everybody seemed to like it, Mr 
Ritter, from what the papers said. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 19 


Ritter. What kind of a show is it? 

Jenny. Why, I think it’s a tragedy, from what I 
gather. 

Ritter. Did you see it, Jenny? 

Jenny. No, sir, J didn’t get to see it, I’m sorry 
to say ; but I heard everybody connected with it say- 
in’ it was a great success. (RITTER resumes his tele- 
grams, then looks at JENNY suddenly.) 

Ritter. How did Mrs. Ritter get into it? 

Jenny. Why, I think somebody died, Mr. Ritter, 
if I’m not mistaken. 

Ritter. (Shaking his head conclusively, and re- 
suming his telegram) I assumed it was an extrem- 
ity of some kind. 

Mrs. Ritter. (At the top of the stairs at the back ) 
Fred Ritter! don’t tell me that’s you down there! 
(JENNY turns quickly and goes to the foot of the 
stairs. ) 

Ritter. No, I’m still out in Chicago! 

Mrs. Ritter. Is it, Jenny? 

Jenny. Yes, ma’m, I was just comin’ to tell you. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Starting down the stairs) I thought 
I heard his voice! (JENNY laughs.) I’ve been 
standing up here for the last five minutes saying to 
myself, “Who can that be that has a voice so much 
like Fred’s!” (Coming inte the room from the hall- 
way.) Why, Fred, darling, what are you doing 
here? (He has moved up toward the center door.) 

Ritter. (Laughing a little) How is the old kid! 
(Kisses her.) 

Mrs. Ritter. I thought you wouldn’t be back till 
the first! (JENNY passes along the hallway to the 
left.) 

Ritter. Why, that Cincinnati thing’s been post- 
poned till after Thanksgiving. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning away from him and step- 
ping out into the hallway again) Well, why didn’t 
you wire or something? 


t 
ti 
h 


20 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Ritter. I was afraid of giving you a shack. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, Jenny! 

Ritter. You're such a frail little flower. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning back to him) Now stop, 
Fred! I’ve really lost a lot since you went away. 

Ritter. How do you know? (JENNY comes 
along the hallway from the left.) 

Mrs. Ritrer.. Why, my dear, I can tell by my 
clothes. (She turns to JENNY.) Jenny, will you get 
me a glass of water, please? 

Jenny. (Starting out) Yes, ma’m. 

Ritter. You're not going to faint, are you? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning back to him again with 
a flip of her hand at him) No, I’m not. 

Ritter. (Slipping his arm around her waist and 
coming forward) Any mail here for me? 

Mrs. Ritter. Not a single thing, Fred; I sent 
everything right on to Chicago as soon as it came: 
there must be several letters there for you now. 

Ritter. (Disengaging himself and taking her 
hands and looking at her) (ll get them, all right. 
How have you been treating yourself while I’ve been 
away? 

Mrs. Ritter. All right; only ’m glad to see you 
back. 

Ritter. Kiss me. 

Mrs. Ritter. The house seemed awfully lone- 
some. 

RITTER. Kiss me. (She kisses him.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Passing above him to the piano 
at the right) Crazy thing. (He moves over to the 
little table at the left, rummaging in his pocket for a 
cigar and Mrs. RITTER commences to rummage im a 
sewing-basket on the piano. This basket is Mrs. 
Ritter’s at a glance, all green and yellow satin, 
fraught with meaningless bows and weird-looking 
knots. She undoubtedly made it herself, and it must 
have taken her months. But she’s a practical wo- 


/ 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 21 


man ; at least she thinks she ts; and the sewing-basket 
helps in a way to sustaim the conviction. Poor 
Paula! As one looks at her and listens to her he 
appreciates the fortune of the circumstance that there 
is some sane and capable person between her and the 
world; and as he more closely observes the sewing- 
basket, he rejoices in the blessing of the sane and 
capable person's ability to spare her the necessity of 
having to make her own clothes. Although, as a mat- 
ter of fact, she would look lovely in anything; for 
PauLa ts pretiy—charmingly so. And her hatr ts 
marvelous. So gold—and satiny. She is wearing a 
dress now of lime-green silk with a standing collar 
edged with black fur, and gold-colored slippers.) 
Did you have anything to eat, Fred? 

Ritter. Yes, I ate on the train. What’s this 
Jenny was saying? Something about a show you’re 
in? 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh—(Looking at him )—did she 
tell you? 

Ritter. I wondered what had happened to the 
furniture when I came in. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Coming around and forward 


toward the litile table below the piano) Yes, there’s _ 


a rehearsal here tonight. We have it every Tuesday 
and Thursday. Of course, it’s just to run over the 
lines, because we’ve done it already at the Civic Club 
on the fourteenth. And, my dear, it was perfectly 
marvelous. 

Ritter. What kind of a show is it? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Standing back of the table) Oh, 
it’s just a one-act play—in one act, you know. And 
it was really guite wonderful. (She gives an inane 
laugh.) I had no idea. (She touches her hair and 
turns toward the back of the room again.) 

Ritter. How did you happen to get into it? 


22 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


(Jenny comes along the hallway from the left, car- 
rying a glass of water on a small tray.) 


Mrs. Ritrer. (Turning to him) Well, now, wait 
till I tell you (She sees JeNNy.) Oh, thanks, 
Jenny. (JENNY starts out again.) Jenny, will you 
go to the top of the stairs and see if I left the lights 
burning in my room? 

Jenny. (Turning and starting toward the foot 
of the stairs in the right hallway; and setting the tray 
on the little stand as she goes.) Yes, ma’m. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Coming forward holding the glass 
of water) I think I did. (She sips.) 

Jenny. (As she crosses the center door) Do you 
want that suitcase taken up, Mr. Ritter? (Mrs. 
Ritter turns round to the right and watches JENn- 
NY.) 

Ritter. Yes, you can take it up if you will, Jenny 
thanks. (JENNY lifts the suitcase from the partition- 
seat and goes out and up the stairs.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to RitTER) You know, 
I wrote you about poor Jimmy Sheppard 

Ritter. Yes, what was that, had he been sick? 

Mrs. Ritter. Why, not a day, my dear! that’s 
the reason it was all so dreadful. Of course, he’d 
always had more or less of a weak heart; but nothing 
to threaten anything of that kind. And just three 
days before the performance, mind you:—couldn’t 
happen any other time. And poor Mrs. Sheppard 
playing one of the leading parts. (She turns to her 
left and goes up to the center door, where she looks 
out toward the right hallway expectantly. ) 

Ritter. (Casually depositing the band from his 
cigar on the tray at his left) Did he know she was 
to play one of the leading parts? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning at the center door and 
looking at him) Who—Mr. Sheppard? 

Ritter. Yes. 


RS 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 23 


Mrs. Ritter. (Coming forward again) Why, of 
course he did—she’d just finished telling him when 
he fell over. (RITTER appears to be unduly occu- 
pied with his cigar, and Mrs. Ritter takes advan- 
tage of the circumstance to refresh herself with an- 
other sip from the glass.) My dear, poor Clara 
Sheppard is a wreck. You want to write her a note, 
Fred, when you get time. And he never spoke—not 
a solitary word. But, she says—just as he was dy- 
ing—he gave her the funniest look. Oh, she says— 
if she lives to be a thousand, she'll never forget the 
way he looked at her. (She goes up to the center 
door and sets the glass down on the tray.) 

Ritter. (Still busy with his cigar) Had he ever 
seen her act? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to him, thoughtfully) I 
don’t know—whether he ever had or not. (JENNY 
comes down the stairs.) Oh, yes, he had, too, for I 
saw him myself at the Century Drawing Rooms last 
Easter Monday night, and she was in that play there 
that night, you remember. (She moves to the piano 
and starts looking for something in the sewing-bas- 
ket; he moves to the mantelpiece, up at the left, ap- 
parently looking for a match.) 

Ritter. No, | wasn’t there. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, weren’t you! I thought you 
were. 

Ritter. No. (He feels in his pockets.) 

Mrs. Ritter. There are matches on that little 
table there, Fred. (She indicates the table below the 
mantel piece.) 

Ritter. (Discovering some in his pocket) I 
have some here. (He moves to the armchair at the 
left of table and sits down.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (As JENNY passes along the hall- 
way toward the left) Oh, Jenny! 

Jenny. Yes, ma’m? 

Mrs. Ritter. Jenny, will you ask Mrs. Brock if 


24 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


she’ll make some of that drink that she made the 
last time? 

Jenny. I think she ’as made it already, Mrs. Rit- 
ter. 

Mrs. Ritter. Well, will you see, Jenny, please? 

Jenny. (Starting away) Yes, ma’m. 

Mrs. Ritter. (To Ritter) The folks liked it 
so much the last time. (She picks up her sewing- 
basket.) 

Jenny. All right, Mrs. Ritter. (She disappears 
at the left.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Stepping out into the hallway) 
Oh, and, Jenny! 

Jenny. (Out at the left) Yes, ma’m? 

Mrs, Ritter. Tell her to put a little of that gin 
in it, the way she did before. 

Jenny. All right, ma’m. 

Mrs. Ritter. Tell her she’ll find some gin in the 
little buffet in the big dining-room. 

Ritter. She probably knows where it is. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Coming forward carrying her 
sewing-basket) Well, anyway, that’s how I hap- 
pened to get into it. (She sits on the chair at the left 
of the small table below the piano.) Mrs. Pampin- 
elli called me up the first thing in the morning, and 
she said 

Ritter. Is she in it, too? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking up from the arrangement 
of a couple of strips of lace which she has taken from 
the sewing-basket) Who? Mrs, Pampinelli? 

RITTER. Yes. 

Mrs. Ritter. No, she doesn’t take any part; she’s 
just in charge of everything. 

Ritter. That suits her better. 

Mrs. Ritter. Kind of directress, I suppose you’d 
call her. (He has some difficulty keeping his face 
straight.) Tells us where to go, you know, on the 
stage-—so we won’t be running into each other. 


ye 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 25 


(Ritter laughs.) Really, Fred, you have no idea 
how easy it is to run into somebody on the stage. 
You've got to know where you’re going every time 
you move. (He laughs louder.) Why, what are 
you laughing at? 

Ritter. I was just thinking of a few of the things 
I’ve heard Mrs. Pampinelli called. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking over at him reproach- 
fully) Oh—now, that isn’t a bit nice of you, Fred 
Ritter. I know you don’t like her. 

Ritter. [I like her, all right. 

Mrs. Ritter. No, you do not, now, Fred—so 
don’t say you do. 

Ritter. I think she’s marvelous. 

Mrs. Ritter. Well, she’s tremendously clever at 
this stage business, I don’t care what you say. You 
just ought to hear her talk about it sometime. Now, 
the last rehearsal we had—over at her house—she 
spoke on “Technique in Acting as Distinguished 
from Method”; and you’ve no idea how interesting 
it was. (Ritter glances over at her at he deposits 
some ashes from his cigar on the little table-tray.) 

Ritter. You say you’ve given this show before? 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, yes! We gave it on the four- 
teenth at the Civic Club. And, my dear, that audi- 
ence just loved it. And you’d be surprised, too, for 
it’s a terrifically serious thing. In fact, in a way, it’s 
too serious—for the general public—that’s the rea- 
son several of the people who saw it suggested that, 
if we give it again, we should give a dance right 
after it. (She looks closely at her needle and Rit- 
TER looks discreetly at the end of his cigar.) But, 
as Mrs. Pampinelli says, it’s an absolute impossibil- 
ity to give a dance at either the Civic Club or the 
Century Drawing Rooms, so that’s how we’re giv- 
ing it this time down at Hutchy Kutchy. (RITTER 
looks over at her with a quizzical squint.) 


Ritter. Where? 


26 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Ritter. (Looking over at him) Horticul- 
tural Hall—there at Broad and Spruce, you know. 

Ritter. Yes, I know ;—what did you call it? 

Mrs. Ritter. Hutchy Kutchy. (She laughs in- 
anely.) Mrs. Pampinelli always calls it that—I sup- 
pose I’ve gotten into the habit too, from hearing her. 
(She gives another little laugh, then finishes with an 
amused sigh. ) 

Ritter. What’s the show for, a charity of some 
kind? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to him suddenly, and with 
a shade of practicality) It’s for the Seamen’s In- 
stitute. Kind of a refuge for them, you know, while 
they’re in port; so the sailors won’t be wandering 
around the streets getting into bad company. (Rur- 
TER disposes of more ashes, with an unusual precis- 
ion, and Mrs. RITTER resumes her sewing. Then, 
suddenly, she glances toward the casement window 
at the right.) It was Mrs. Pampinelli’s idea. (She 
gathers her things into the sewing-basket and gets 
up, swinging round to her left and talking as she 
goes) —so of course she didn’t want anything to 
happen. (She sets the sewing-basket down on the 
piano, and, with another glance through the window 
at the right, crosses to the little table at the left where 
Ritter is sitting.) So she called me up the first 
thing in the morning, and she said, “Paula darling, 
have you heard the news?” So, of course, I said 
“No”; because up to that time I hadn’t, and, natur- 
ally, I wasn’t going to say that I had. 

Ritter. Certainly not. 

Mrs. Ritter. “Well,” she said, “poor Jimmy 
Sheppard has just passed on.” Well, luckily, I was 
sitting down at the time, or I pana 4 think I 
should have passed on myself. 

Ritter. (Raising his hand from the table as 
though distressed by the extremity of her remarks) 
Don’t say such things. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 27 


Mrs. Ritter. (Mistaking his attitude) No, 
really, Fred, you’ve no idea the feeling that came 
over me when she said that. “Well,” I said, “Betty, 
what on earth are we going to do!” Because the 
tickets were all sold, you know. “Well,” she said, 
“Paula—the only thing J see to do, is to have you 
step nght into Clara Sheppard’s role.” “Me!” I 
said. “Yes,” she said; “you are the only person in 
my opinion who is qualified to play the part.” “But, 
my dear,” I said, “I’ve never stepped on a stage in 
my life!” “That is absolutely inconsequential,” she 
said, “it is entirely a matter of dramatic instinct. 
And,” she said—(She simpers a bit here and moves 
around from the right of the little table where she 
has been standing to the back of her husband’s chair, 
at the left of the table) —“you have that—to a far 
greater degree than you’ve any idea of.” (He makes 
a sound of dry amusement.) No, really, Fred, every- 
one was saying it was a positive tragedy that you 
couldn’t have been there to see me—lI never forgot 
myself once. (She rests her hand on his left shoul- 
der, and he reaches up and takes her hand.) 

Ritter. What are you going to do now, become 
an actress? 

Mrs. Ritter. No, but it surprised me so, the way 
everybody enthused; because I didn’t think I’d done 
anything so extraordinary—I just walked onto the 
stage, and said what I’d been told to say, and walked 
off again. (She emphasizes this last phrase by an 
indefinite gesture of nonchalance in the direction of 
the door at her left.) And yet everybody seemed to 
think it was wonderful. Why, Nelly Fell said she’d 
never seen even a professional actress so absolutely 
unconscious. (He makes a sound of amusement.) 
Really, Fred, you ought to have heard them. Why, 
they said if they didn’t know, they never in the 
Hie, would have believed that it was my first of- 

ense. 


a ener 
oer 


28 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Ritter. You mustn’t believe everything these 
women tell you; they'll tell you anything to get their 
names in the paper. 

Mrs. Ritter. Well, it wasn’t only they that said 
it;—people that I didn’t even know said it. Why, 
Mrs. Pampinelli had a letter from a woman away 
out at Glenside that happened to see the perform- 
ance, and she said that, at times, my repose was post- 
tively uncanny. And the papers simply raved; es- 
pecially ““The Evening Breeze.” I have it upstairs. 
I must show it to you. It said that it didn’t under- 
stand how I had escaped the public eye so long. (She 
glances at the cuckoo clock over the door at the left, 
and, in doing so, notices a book that has been left 
lying on the chair below the door. She steps over 
and picks it up.) I was awfully sorry you couldn’t 
have been there, Fred. I was going to write you 
about it when Mrs. Pampinelli first spoke to me 
about going on, but there was so little time, you see. 
And then, I didn’t think you’d mind—especially on 
account of its being for charity. (He is very care- 
fully puting ashes on the little tray. She stands hold- 
ing the book, looking at him. And there is a slight 
pause.) You don’t mind my going on, do you, Fred? 

Ritter. (Rather slowly) No—I don’t mind, if 
you’re able to get away with it. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Trailing across back of his chair) 
TI didn’t think you would. 

Ritter. (Raising his hand from the table quietly) 
But a—(She comes to a stop and regards him over 
her left shoulder )—I don’t want any of these women 
exploiting you for their own vanity. (She doesn’t 
quite encompass his meaning, and stands looking at 
him for a second. Then she abstractedly lays the 
book down on the table beside him. There ts a very 
definite ring at the front doorbell.) I guess that’s 
some of the people. (She starts toward the hall- 


way.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 29 
Ritter. (Preparing to rise) Where do you do 
this thing, here? 


Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to him and indicating 
the general arrangement) Yes—just the way we 
have it fixed. 

Ritter. (Rising briskly and crossing to the table 
below the piano at the right, while Mrs. RITTER con- 
tinues to the center door and stands looking toward 
the front door. JENNY appears in the left hallway.) 
I think [ll beat it upstairs. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to JENNY) I guess that’s 
some of the people, Jenny. (She comes forward 
toward RITTER again.) 

Jenny. Yes, ma’m. (She passes back of Mrs. 
RitTER and along out into the right hallway to an- 
swer the door.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Won’t you wait and see the re- 
hearsal, Fred? (He is gathering up the telegrams 
from the table, where he left them earlier.) 

Ritter. (Turning and going up toward the cen- 
ter door, thrusting the telegrams into his inside 
pocket) No, I think I’d rather wait and see the 
show. (He passes her, to her left.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning and trailing up toward 
the center door after him) It’s really very interest- 
ing. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Out at the front door) You 
see how considerate I am of you, Jenny, letting my- 
self in? (Mr. and Mrs. RITTER stop in the center 
door and look toward the front door.) 

Jenny. (At the front door) Oh, that’s all right, 
Mrs. Pampinelli. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning quickly to RitTER at her 
left) You can’t go up now, Fred; she’ll see you. 


(Mrs. Pampinetti and Ritter, together.) 


Mrs. PamprINneLyi. Well, I daresay you'll have 


30 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


to open this door quite often enough tonight with- 
out my troubling you. 

RitTER. (Coming back into the room with a slight 
gesture of annoyance) I don’t want to have to lis- 
ten to her gab. (He goes over to the mantelpiece at — 
the left and takes up his position there, while Mrs. 
RITTER, with a movement to him to be silent, drifts 
down beside the piano at the right.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming into view from the 
right hallway) Well, I suppose I’m still the shining 
example of punctuality. (She sweeps through the 
center door, carrying a large black bear muff, a fan 
of black ostrich plumes, and a notebook and pencil.) 
How do you do, Mr. Ritter? (She goes toward Mrs. 
RITTER. ) 

Ritter. (Nodding) How do you do? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I’m glad to see you. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Moving toward Mrs. Pamprin- 
ELLI) Hello, Betty. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Hello, Paula child—(Kisses 
her )—how are you, dear? (Mr. SPINDLER hurries 
in from the right hallway, carrying several books. 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI steps to the table below the piano.) 
Will you give those things*to Mrs. Ritter, Mr. Spind- 
ler; she’ll set them down somewhere. (She sets her 
own encumbrances down on the table, and Mrs. 
RitTeER passes back of her to SPINDLER. ) 

SPINDLER. (Standing in the middle of the room, 
toward the back) Certainly, certainly. 

Mrs. Ritter. Good evening, Mr. Spindler. 

SPINDLER. Good evening, good evening. (JENNY 
comes in from the right hallway, takes the tray and 
glass from the hall table, and goes out the left hall- 
way.) 

Mrs. Ritter. I'll just take these. 

SPINDLER. (Giving her the books and manuscript) 
If you please. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Crossing directly to RITTER) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 31 


Florence McCrickett told me you were back ; she saw 
you getting into a taxicab at the station. (Giving 
him her hand.) I’m glad to see you. 

Ritter. [ just got in. 

Mrs. PAMpPINELLI. And I suppose you’ve already 
heard about the great event? 

Ritter. Yes, she’s just been telling me. (They 
laugh together.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, my dear, you may count 
that day lost that you missed it. (She half turns to 
Mrs. RitTER, who is engaged in conversation with 
SPINDLER.) Mayn’t he, Paula? (But Pauta hasn't 
heard what she’s been saying, so she just looks at 
her and gives an inane little laugh. Mrs. PamPin- 
ELLI continues to Ritter.) Although you'll have an 
opportunity tomorrow night; unless you’re going to 
run away again before that. 

Ritter. No, I’ll be here now till after Thanks- 
giving. (Mrs. Ritter leaves SPINDLER and goes 
over to a small table at the extreme right, below the 
casement window, where she sets the books and 
manuscript down. ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning from RITTER and 


crossing back again to the table at the right below the 


piano) Wonderful! Did you hear that, Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. What is it, dear? 

Mrs. Pamprinetyi1. Mr. Ritter says he will be 
here for the performance tomorrow night. 

Mrs. Ritter. Yes. 

Mrs. PAMPINLELI. (Unfastening her fur neck- 
piece) So you will have an opportunity after all of 
revealing to him what gems of talent the unfathomed 
caves of matrimony bear. (They both laugh.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Picking up Mrs. PAMPINELLI’s 
muff from the table and taking the neckpiece) VM 
just take these, Betty. 

Mrs. PaMpPiINELLI. (Settling her beads) Any- 
where at all, dear. (Mrs. Ritter starts to the right.9 


32 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Oh, and by the way, Paula 
and turns to her.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Yes? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Indicating the books on the 
table below the window) There’s a remarkable ar- 
ticle in one of those books I brought, on a—ges- 
ture. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking at the books) Yes? 

Mrs. PampInetti. The little gray book I think it 
is, if I’m not mistaken. (She turns to her left and 
acknowledges Mr. SPINDLER with a touch of state.) 
Mr. Spindler—(He returns a smiling and very 
snappy little bow)—brought it to my attention— 
(She turns back again to PauLa, who has gone up 
at the right of the piano and is putting the furs on 
the partition-scat, while SPINDLER, becoming sud- 
denly conscious that RitTTER is looking at him, stiff- 
ens abruptly, glances at Ritter, and turns back 
again to Mrs. PAaMPINELLI)—and it really is re- 
markable. So many of my own ideas—things that 
I have been advocating for years. I brought it espe- 
cially for you, Paula—so you must read it when you 
have time. (She picks up her lead-pencil from the 
little table and, tapping it against her right temple, 
thinks profoundly.) What is that wonderful line of 
Emerson’s that I’m so fond of—something about our 
unexpressed thoughts coming back to accuse us—— 
(Turning to SPINDLER) You know all those things, 
Mr. Spindler. 

SPINDLER. (Pedantically) Coming back to us 
“with an alienated majesty.” 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. That is the one I mean. (She 
turns back again to Pauta, who has, by this time, 
come forward again at the right of the piano, while 
Mr. SPINDLER, again becoming conscious that Rir- 
TER is looking at him, gives him another glance, this 
time with a shade of resentment in it, and, coughing 
briefly, as an emphasis of his dignity, which Rrr- 


(Mrs. RITTER stops 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 33 


TER'S general attitude somehow suggests is not being 
sufficiently esteemed, turns back to Mrs. PaMpiN- 
ELLI.) Well, that is exactly what occurred to me 
when I read that article—my own thoughts return- 
ing to me from an alienated majesty. (She finishes 
her version of the quotation to SPINDLER and Mr. 
Ritter.) Oh, by the way—(She gives a little mirth- 
less laugh )—I'm afraid I’ve neglected to introduce 
Mr. Spindler. (Indicating R1TTER with a very casual 
gesture of her left hand, and picking up her lead- 
pencil from the little table.) ‘This is Mrs. Ritter’s 
husband, Mr. Spindler. (SprINnpDLER strides toward 
RITTER and extends his hand with that vigor which 
usually characterizes the greetings of unimportant 
persons.) 

SPINDLER. Glad! 

Ritter. (Tonelessly) How are you? 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. (Addressing RITTER directly) 
Mr. Spindler is a young man who has made quite an 
exhaustive study of the Little Theatre Movement 
throughout the country—(SPINDLER moves back 
toward his former position, and PAuLa, over at the 
right, takes a piece of fudge from a box on the little 
table below the casement window )—and is working 
very hard to bring about something of the same kind 
here. (Ritter inclines his head, and SPinvteER lis- 
tens to Mrs. PAMPINELLI, wreathed in smiles.) 
And is going to succeed, too, aren’t you, Mr. Spind- 
ler? 

SPINDLER. (With a kind of pert assurance) Never 
fell down on a big job yet. (He gives a self-con- 
scious little laugh and glances at R1tTER, under whose 
coldly appraising eye the laugh freezes instantly into 
a short, hollow cough. Then he turns away.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I’m sure he has all the quali- 
fications. 

SPINDLER, (With a wooden smile, and saluting) 
Thank you, thank you. 


34 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Hasn’t he, Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Nibbling at the fudge) Yes, in- 
deed. Mr. Spindler’s quite indispensable. (SPrnb- 
LER gives her a pert little nod, by way of acknowl- 
edgment.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (To Mrs. RitTer) I think 
that’s what I shail have to call him hereafter—(Turn- 
ing to SPINDLER)—the indispensable Mr. Spindler. 
(They all laugh—a trifle more than the brilliancy of 
the remark should reasonably occasion, and Mr. 
SPINDLER accounts it even worthy a salute.) 

SPINDLER. Bouquets were falling—(Here the 
front doorbell gives two sharp little staccato rings) 
—thick and fast. (He starts toward the center door.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, it’s true—— 

SPINDLER. (Speaking directly to Mrs. RITTER) 
Ill answer it. (He hurries out into the right hall- 
way.) 


(Mrs. Pamprnecii and Mrs. RITTER speaking to- 
gether.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I know I don’t know what on 
earth I should do without him. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Addressing SPINDLER as he hur- 
ries out the hallway) All right, if you will, Mr. 
Spindler. 

SPINDLER. (Calling back) Sure! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. He is one of those rare per- 
sons who never forsakes one in the hour of quota- 
tion. (She turns to Mrs. RitTER, who is chewing 
fudge at her right.) What are you eating, Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. A bit of fudge. Would you like 
some, Betty? 

Mrs. PamMPINnetir. (Very definitely) No, thank 
you, dear. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Indicating the table below the case- 
ment window) There’s some here. 


7 a 


you should not, either, Pa 


candy. 
) (She moves across to the Ieft to Me. Rrrvex. She 


is an imposing woman, im her late fifties, with a 
wealth of false hair, perfectly done, and @ martial 
bearing. She is one of those matrons who ts fre- 
quently referred to im the suburban weeklies as « 
“leading spirit” > and this particular description has 
always so flattered Mes. Pampinexirs particular 
vanity that she overlooks no opportunity of justify- 
img tt; an effort that has resulted im a certaim gron- 
deur of voice and manner ; which, rather fortunately, 
_ becomes the distinction of her persom. She its 
| gowned im sapphirc-blue velvet, close-fitiing, with am 
independent, triangular tram, from the waist, prob- 
ably four yords long. Her necklace, comb, the 
buckles on her black-velvet slippers, amd her rings 
are all touched with sapphire.) 
Mes. Rrrrer. (Looking vaguely at the fudge- 
box) There's so much of it here. (JENNY appears 
from the left hallway. } 


(Mrs. Pawrtnerit and Mas. Ritter speaking to- 
gether.) 

Mes. Pamptnezit. (Coming ito Rirrer’s right) 

es Poor Ober want #, Me Rit- 


— (Going up to the center door and 


Deere Poa as she gues) Mr. Spindler is an- 
swerig the door, Jenny; you meedn’t bother. 


(Rirrer and JENNY speaking together.) 


Rrrrex. (To Mrs. Pamprnennr) Yes, it wexp— 
too bad. 


36 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Jenny. (To Mrs. Rrrrer) gh ag west 
(She withdraws, and Mrs. Ritrer stands looking 
out into the right hallway.) 

Mrs. Pamprnetii. I suppose Paula wrote you. 

Rriiter. Yes. 

Mrs. Pamprnecii. Dear me—l don’t know when 


at the end of his cigar and Mrs. Pawrrnexwi looks 
straight ahead.) 1 don’t believe I dosed an eye the 
entire night—wondering where on earth I should 
find someone to play his wife’s part. (Rrrrer glan- 
ces at her, as he places the cigar im his mouth, and 
Mrs. Pamprne.ui looks at him quickly.) Because, 
oi course, you know that Mrs. Sheppard was to have 
played the part that Paula plays. 

Rirter. Yes, so she told me. (Mars. Rrrrer, sill 
mibbling at the fudge, wanders down and stands in 
the middle of the room.) 

Mrs. PawPInett1. But we only had three days 
to get someone; and it didn’t seem possible to me 
that anyone could memorize that part in that length 
of time. (Mrs. Rirrer touches her hair and makes 
a little sound of amusemeni—a kind of modest ac- 
knouledgmeni of the brilliancy of her achievement.) 
So I thought at first—of having Clara Sheppard go 
on anyway, and I should make an announcement; 
but, you see, Mr. Sheppard was buried on the four- 
teenth, and that was the night of the performance; 
and as I thought the matter over, it seemed to me 
that perhaps it was just a little too mmch to expect 
of her. (Rirrer gives her another glance.) Con- 
sidering her experience as an aciress, I mean. 

Rrrrer. (Taking the cigar from his mouth and 
speaking with a shade of dehberation) Coyldn’t she 
have kept his death a secret—auntil after the perform- 
ance? 

Mes. Pawrineriz. Well, I thought of that, too; 
(Rrrter looks at her steadily )—but, you see, it was 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 37 


three days—(He nods, understandingly)—and he 


was so very well known. (She moves back across 
the room toward the table below the piano, and Rit- 
TER stands looking after her. Simultaneously, there 
is a frantic giggle from the right hallway. Mrs. 
RITTER goes up to the center door, looks in the di- 
rection of the laughter, and waves her handkerchief, 
while Mrs. PAMPINELLI, passing below the table, 
athers up her notebook and pencil and continues to 
the table below the casement window, where she se- 
cures the manuscript. RITTER steps forward from 
his position before the mantelpiece, and disposes of 
some ashes on the little table-iray.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Out in the right hallway) Paula, 
that’s a very dangerous young man you have on that 
door tonight. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Calling to her) I think it’s very 
kind of Mr. Spindler. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI comes 
around in front of the big armchair below the case- 
ment window.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Coming into view, with consider- 
able flourish) Kind! My dear, I haven’t heard any- 
thing like it since I was twenty! (She gives a little 
mauve of her gorgeous, single white ostrich plume 
fan at Mrs. PaMpINnettt.) Hello, Betty! (Then 
to Mrs. Ritter) How are you, darling? 

Mrs. Ritter. Hello, Nelly. (NELty kisses her.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Enthroning herself in the 
armchair at the right) Is it really possible! 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning from Mrs. RitTER and 
hurrying through the center door) You're a sweet 
child! (Extending the fan toward Mrs. PAMPIN- 
ELLI, and coming quickly forward to the table at the 
right below the piano.) Yes, and I should have been 
here every night at this hour if it weren’t for that 
dreadful officer up at the parkway! (She sets her 
fan and black-velvet bag on the table. SPINDLER, 
comes in from the right hallway and engages in con- 


38 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


versation with Mrs, RITTER in the center door.) He 
seems to take a fiendish delight in selecting my car, 
of all the millions that pass there at this hour, to do 
this! (She extends her right arm and hand, after 
the fashion of traffic-officers.) So I told him yes- 
terday afternoon, I said, “Look here, young man!” 
(She points her forefinger as though reproving the 
officer.) “You needn’t expect any Christmas pres- 
ent froin me next Christmas, for you just—won’t— 
get it. Not till you change your tactics.” So he 
says, after this, he’s just going to let me go ahead 
and run into a trolley-car;—see how I like that. 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI, making marginal notes in the 
manuscript, laughs faintly.) “Well,” I said, “itd be 
a change, anyway—from being stopped all the time.” 
(She abstractedly picks up her fan again. ) I don’t 
think he likes my chauffeur. And I don’t blame him; 
I don’t like him myself. He drives too slow. ( She 
starts for the center door.) He's like an old woman. 
(She secs RitTER, peering at her, and starts ab- 
ruptly.) Well, for mercy’s sake, Frederick Ritter, 
you don’t mean to tell me that’s you! 

Ritter. I was here a minute ago. 

Mrs. Fett. (Laughing flghtily) Well, 1 declare! 
I don’t know what’s happening to my eyes! (Turn- 
ing to Mrs. PAMPINELLI) I saw him standing there 
—(Turning back again and starting toward RITTER, 
with her hand extended )—but I thought it was one 
of the other gentlemen! How are you, dear boy? 
(He takes her hand and stoops as though to kiss her. 
She turns her head away quickly.) Stop it! Fred- 
erick Ritter! (Mrs. PamMPINELLI glances over, then 
resumes her notes. Mrs. Fett half-turns to Mrs. 
Ritter, who is still talking to Mr. SPINDLER up at 
the center door.) Paula!—do you see what this bad 
boy of yours is doing? (Pauta just looks and 
laughs meaninglessly, and resumes her conversation 
with SPINDLER.) What brought you back so soon? 


ae 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 39 


Ritter. (Assuming the attitude and tone of a 
lover) I got thinking of you. 

Mrs. Fety.. (Touching her hair) I thought you 
were out in Seattle or South Carolina or one of those 
funny places. 

Ritter. (Leaning a bit closer and speaking more 
softly) I couldn’t keep away from you any longer. 
(NELLY darts a swift glance at him.) 

Mrs, Fett. (Starting toward the right) Don’t 
play with fire, Frederick. (He laughs hard. She 
pauses in the middle of the room. and turns and looks 
at him.) You know what they say about widows, 
and I’ve been all kinds. (She continues over toward 
Mrs. PaMPinecti.) Oh, Professor Pampinelli! 
(Turning and addressing Ritter directly.) I call 
her Professor, she knows so much. (Turning back 
to Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) Mrs. P. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Looking up suddenly) I beg 
your pardon, Nelly dear—I didn’t know you were 
speaking to me. 

Mrs. Fett. I want to know if you can take me 
home in your car tonight? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Why, certainly, dear. 

Mrs. Fett. My chauffeur has been deviling me 
for the past two days about some boxing-bee,—or 
wrestling-match or something that he wants to see; 
and J told him he could go if there were someone 
here to take me home. 

Mrs PAmpPINeLti. I can take you, of course. 

Mrs. Fert. All right, then, I can chase him. 
(She turns to the left.) I won’t hear any more about 
that. Oh, Mr. Spindler! 

SPINDLER. Yes, mam? (Excuses himself to 
Mrs. Ritter, who steps into the left hallway and 
beckons with her finger for JENNY.) 

Mrs. Fett. Would you mind doing a favor for a 
very old lady? 

Skies (Who has hurried forward and ts 


40 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


standing in the middle of the room, at attention) 
You know what I told you out at the sige ( NELLY 
gives a shriek, and giggles.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Looking coyly over SPINDLER’S 
shoulder at RirTER) Oh, you hear that, Frederick 
Ritter? You have a rival on the premises. Mr. 
Spindler told me out at the door tonight,—that my 
will was his pleasure. 

Ritter. (Looking at the tip of his cigar) San 
Juan is never dead while Mr. Spindler lives. (There 
is a general laugh.) 

SPINDLER. (Turning to RiTTER) Say, that’s 
pretty good! 

Mrs. Fett. Yes, I was afraid he was something 
of a gay deceiver. 

SPINDLER. (Speaking directly to Mrs. FELL) 
Only one way to find out. (Mrs. Fett laughs depre- 
catingly and sweeps the tip of her fan across his 
nose.) 

Mrs. Fett. Naughty boy. (She giggles a litile 
more, then becomes practical) Well, then, I'll tell 
you what you may do for me, Mr. Spindler, if you 
don’t mind. (JENNY appears in the left hallway and 
Mrs. RITTER gives her an order of some sort, which 
appears to require a bit of explanation.) Go out to 
my chauffeur—(She turns him round by the shoul- 
der and they move up toward the center door)— 
you'll probably find him asleep in the car, and tell 
him I said it’s all right,—he can go along—that Mrs. 
Pampinelli will take me home in her car. 

SPINDLER. (Hurrying out the right hallway) 
Righto! (JENNY withdraws.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Standing in the center door and 
calling after him) Like a good boy. (She turns, to 
find Mrs. Ritter at her left in the center door. She 
takes her arm and they come forward.) Come in 
here, Paula Ritter, and explain to me why—(They 
Stop in the middle of the room, just above the line 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 41 


on which RitTTER is standing )—you didn’t tell me my 
—lover—(She peers around in front of Pauta’s 
shoulder at RITTER)—was coming back today? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Laughing faintly) My dear, I 
didn’t know it myself until twenty minutes ago. 

Mrs, Fett. (Becoming instantly rigid, and pierc- 
ing Mrs. Ritter with a iook) You don’t mean to 
tell me he returned unexpectedly? 

Mrs. Ritter. He never even sent a wire. 

Mrs. Fett. (Moving over to the right, to the litile 
table below the piano) Im surprised at you, Fred- 
erick. I consider that the supreme indiscretion in 
a husband—(She lays her fan down on the table )—to 
return unexpectedly. Isn’t it, Paula? (She com- 
mences to unfasten her cloak.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Moving over to help her) I never 
got such a surprise in my life. 

Mrs. Fett. It has probably wrecked more per- 
fectly good homes than any other one thing in the 
calendar. (She slips her cloak off her shoulders, 
and Mrs. Ritter, who has passed back of her, takes 
it. It 1s a flowing affair mm black and silver, with 
voluminous kimona sleeves edged with black fur, and 
a deep circular collar of silver-cloth and fur.) 

Mrs. Ritter. I love your cape, Nelly. 

Mrs. Feri. (Setiling her ornaments) Do you 
really ? 

- Mrs. Ritter. (Examining it) Beautiful. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Reaching for tt) Let me 
see it, Paula. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Handing it to her) Where's your 
seal, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fetx. I thought I wouldn’t take it out this 
winter ; I got so tired looking at it last year. I want 
to have that collar and cuffs taken off, anyway, be- 
fore I wear it again ;—there’s too much skunk there. 

Mrs. PamprIneLii. This is perfectly gorgeous, 
dear. (To Mrs. RiTTER) Isn’t it? 


42 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs, Ritter. (Picking up NELLY’s fan from the 
table) Lovely. And isn’t this sweet? (Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI takes the fan from Mrs. RITTER and re- 
turns the wrap.) 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. Charming. 

Mrs. Fett. I’m so glad you like it ;—I was afraid 
at first perhaps it might make me look a little too 
much like a bride. 

Ritter. (With mock derision) Ha! (NELLY 
snaps her head toward him and pins him with a nar- 
row glare.) 

Mrs. Fett. Don’t be peevish, Frederick 

Mrs. Ritter. (To Mrs. PAMPINELLI, as she 
takes the fan from her and replaces tt on the table ) 
Isn’t he terrible! 

Mrs. Fett. It isn’t my fault that your wife is a 
great actress. (She gives a comic nod and wink at 
Mrs. Ritter. Ritter laughs.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Starting toward the door up 
above the casement window, at the right, with Mrs. 
FELL’s cape) Now, Fred Ritter, you just stop that! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Never mind him, Paula. 
(PauLa goes out with the cape.) He'll probably 
change his tune after tomorrow night. (Mrs. Fein 
picks up her fan and commences to fan herself.) 

Ritter. (Standing over above the table at the left, 
smoking) I’m thinking of what happened to poor 
Jimmy Sheppard. (JENNY comes in at the left hall- 
way carrying a small punch-bowl filled with claret, 
which she sets down carefully on the little stand in 
the hallway. Mrs. Ritter re-enters from the ‘door 
on the right and crosses over to JENNY, whom she 
assists.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Strolling across toward R1TTER, fan- 
ning herself) Oh, I suppose it must be very diffi- 
cult for the marvelous male, to suddenly find himself 
obliged to bask in the reflected glory of a mere wife. 
(Mrs. PaAMPINELLI laughs, over her notes.) For 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 43 


I’ve never known one yet who was able to do it 
gracefully. (She flips the tip of the fan at R1TTER’s 
nose. Mrs. RITTER gives JENNY a direction of some 
kind and JENNY goes out again at the left hallway.) 

Mrs. PamPiIneLti. (As Mrs. FELL saunters back 
again across the room) Well, perhaps Mr. Ritter 
will show himself consistently masculine in this in- 
stance, and do the exceptional thing. (Mrs. RITTER 
follows JENNY out.) 

Ritter. I suppose that’s what you’d call veiled 
sarcasm, isn’t it? (Mrs. PAmPINeELLI laughs and 
rises.) 

Mrs. Fety. (Standing in the middle of the room) 
I shouldn’t say it was veiled at all. (Moving toward 
the table below the piano.) I don’t think it’s even 
draped. 

Mrs. PamPINneLui. (Laughing still, and coming 
to the little table) MHere’s the manuscript, Nelly. 

Mrs. Fett. (Stepping closer to the table) Yes, 
dear. 

Rittrer. What are you going to do now, keep on 
giving this show? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, not this particular one, 
Mr. Ritter, no; but we are going to continue giving 
shows. 

Ritter. What’s the idea? 

Mrs. Fett. They’re to be for different charities. 

Mrs. PaMpPINELLI. And then they will afford the 
boys and girls an opportunity of developing them- 
selves as artists. 

Ritter. What are they all going to do, all go on 
the stage? 

Mrs. Pamprinettt. Well, hardly all of them will 
go ;—but those that we feel ‘have sufficient talent we 
will encourage to go on, by all means. 

Ritter. Do you think Mrs. Ritter has sufficient 
talent ? 

Mrs. Fett. She’s wonderful, Fred, really. 


44 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs, PAMPINELLI. Yes, I should say that Paula 
had a very remarkable talent. 

Ritter. Well, what will you do about her? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. How do you mean, Mr. Rit- 
ter, what will we do about her? 

‘Ritter. Why, I mean,—you’d hardly encourage 
her to go on the stage, would you? 

Mrs. PAmpinetii. And why not? 

RiTTErR. Why, what about her home? (NELLy 
FEL touches her hair and gives Mrs. PARPINELLI a 
look of amused impatience.) She couldn't very well 
walk away and leave that, could she? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, personally, Mr. Ritter, 
I have always felt that, where it is a question of tal- 
ent, one should not allow himself to be deterred by 
purely personal considerations. 

Mrs. Fett. She’s really awfully good, Fred! 
You wait till you see—you’ll want her to go your- 
self. 

Ritter. (Stepping quietly to the table at the left 
and disposing of some cigar-ashes) She'll have to be 
pretty good. 

Mrs. Fett. Won't he, Betty? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, as far as that is con- 
eerned, I think that the question of whether to be or 
not to be an actress is one that every woman must, 
at some time or other in her life, decide for herself. 


(SPINDLER hurries in from the right hallway and 
down to Mrs. FEtt’s left, where he stands at 
attention, saluting, of course, as usual. MR. 
SPINDLER is full of salutes. He was in the army 
—drafted ten weeks before the armistice; and 
subjected throughout the long term of his ser- 
vice to the dangers and exposure of a clerkship 
in the Personnel at Upton. And he’s never got- 
ten over it; being of that immature type of mind 
upon which the letter of the Miltary makes a 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 45 


profound impression. He’s a peppy person, 
thin and stilted—in dinner clothes—with sleek 
hair and goggle glasses: one of that distressing 
student-order that is inevitably to be found m 
the retinue of some Mrs, PAMPINELLI—her so- 
cial status and constant championship of so- 
called artistic movements affording him a legiti- 
mate indulgence of his particular weaknesses. 
So he becomes a kind of lead-pencil-bearer ex- 
traordinary to her ladyship; and her ladyship 
tolerates him,—for a variety of reasons; not the 
least of which is his unfailing attitude of acqui- 
escence in all her opinions. And she has so many 
opinions,—and on so many different subjects, 
that this feature of Mr. SPINDLER’s disposition 
is far from inconsiderable. Then, he has a most 
highly developed faculty for small correctnesses, 
—an especially valuable asset, in view of the 
enormous amount of detail work incidental to 
Mrs. PaMPINELLI’s vast activities. He reminds 
her of things, or “brings them to her attention,” 
as she puts it. For Mr. SPINDLER ts one of 
those—fortunately few—people who remember 
things—word for word—even the things he’s 
read—and he appears to have read most every- 
thing. And he quotes incessantly. As Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI has already observed of him, “he 
as one of those rare persons who never forsakes 
one in the hour of quotation.” ) 


Mrs. PamprIneLu. Look here, Nelly. 

Mrs. Fett. Yes, dear. (Mrs. RITTER comes in 
from the left hallway carrying several punch-glasses, 
which she puts down on the hallway table.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Indicating a certain line in 
the manuscript with her lead-pencil) There are a 
couple of little changes here on page twelve. (Mrs. 


46 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


FELL opens her lorgnon and looks at the manuscript.) 
I have them marked. 

Mrs. Fett. (Becoming conscious of SPINDLER at 
her left) Pardon me, Betty. (Turning to SPINnp- 
LER) Did you tell him, Mr. Spindler? 

SPINDLER. Yes, ma’m; he’s gone on his way re- 
joicing. 

Mrs. FELL. You’re a sweet child. 

SPINDLER. (Snapping his salute) Thank you. 
(He does an about-face and goes up to Mrs. RITTER, 
RitTER watching him with an expression susceptible 
of infinite interpretation. ) 

Mrs. Fett. The only man I’ve met in a long time 
that has made me wish I were—ten years younger. 

Ritter. Ha! 

Mrs. Fett. (Perily) Outside of you, of course. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a touch of wearied 
impatience) Look here, dear. 

Mrs. Fett. (Stepping quickly to the table again 
and readjusting her lorgnon) Yes, I beg your par- 
don. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You see, in this line here,— 
the author has employed a defective verb in the per- 
fect tense. (Mrs. Fett looks suddenly at her and 
then right back to the manuscript again. RITTER 1s 
watching them closely.) Would you come here for 
a moment, Mr. Spindler? 

SPINDLER. Certainly, certainly. (Excuses him- 
self to Mrs. Ritrer, with whom he has been chat- 
ting, and comes down briskly to Mrs. FEetx’s left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. If you please. 

Mrs. Fett. (Appearing to have some difficulty 
locating the defective verb) Where is that, now, that 
you were saying, Betty? 

Mrs. PAmMPINELLi. (Indicating with the point of 
the pencil) Right there, dear. (NELLY just looks 
at the spot, through her lorgnon.) ‘This is the point 
I was speaking to you about last night, Mr. Spindler. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 47 


SPINDLER. (Securing his goggles) Oh, yes, yes! 
(Ritter draws Mrs. RitTer’s attention to the group 
down at the table. She reproves him with a steady 
stare. He smiles and shakes his head hopelessly.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You see, this author has em- 
ployed a defective here, in the perfect tense. 

SPINDLER. (Looking closely) Ah, yes, I see. 

Mrs, PampPINELLI. (Looking at him directly) 
So I have changed it. (He straightens up and looks 
at her, and Mrs. Fett looks from one to the other.) 

SPINDLER. A very good change. (He nods and 
crosses over to the left, passing below the table at 
the left. RitTtTER watches him until he takes up his 
position just below the mantelpiece, rather ill at ease 
under RITTER’S gaze.) 

Mrs. PampINnecii. I think so. So, if you'll just 
watch that, Nelly. (She picks up the manuscript.) 

Mrs. Fert. All right, Pll watch it. (She reaches 
for her bag and takes out a lip-stick. JENNY appears 
from the left hallway with a tray of cakes, which 
Mrs. RitTER assists her in making room for on the 
hall table.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Starting for the center door) 
I must show it to Paula; it’s her line. (The door- 
bell rings.) Paula, child. (JENNY passes back of 
Mrs, Ritter and goes out inio the right hallway to 
answer the doorbell.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Eating a cake) Yes, dear? (Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI calls her attention to the change in the 
manuscript. Mrs. FELL is making up her lips down 
at the table below the piano. RITTER is watching 
her, and SPINDLER ts watching RITTER, and trying 
to assume his general deportment.) 

Ritter. Are you in the show, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. (Without turning, and applying the 
lip-stick, with the aid of the litile mirror in her hand- 
bag) Who, me? 

Ritter. Yes. 


48 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Fett. (Half-turning, and giving him a melt- 
ing look) Yes;—I play a chicken. (She returns 
to her mirror.) 

Ritter. (Casually) In the last act, I suppose. 
(NELLY snaps her head around and pierces him with 
one of her looks.) 

Mrs. FELL. No, and not in the last stages, either. 
(She resumes her make-up. NELLy ts forever mak- 
ing up. But she does know how to do it. Of course, 
she should, considering the years of her experience 
in the art. For NELLY FELL’s age amounts to an 
achievement; one of those attainments so absolutely 
undisputed that it is perfectly permissible to refer to 
it in any gathering. She says she'll “soon be sixty” ; 
but the short and simple annals of society record 
flutterings of the lady as far back as the first term 
of President Grant. And she’s still fluttering—a per- 
ennial ingenue, full of brittle moves and staccato 
vocalisms. She looks like a little French marquise, 
so chic, and twittery—and rich. For, of course, 
NELLY is wealthy—enormously so; it would be ut- 
terly impossible to have her hair and not have money; 
the feature is financial in itself ; so silver-white, with 
a lovely bandau of small, pale-pink leaves, tipped 
with diamond dewdrops ; all heightened tremendously 
by the creation in black velvet she is wearing. This 
gown is heavily trimmed with silver, and quite 
sleeveless, with two panels of the goods fastened at 
the waist on either side and trailing at least a yard. 
She has a preference for diamonds and pearls, obvi- 
ously, for her ear-rings, dog-collar, bracelets and 
rings are all of those gems, and her long, triple-string 
necklace ts of pearls. Altogether, NELLY ts a very 
gorgeous little old lady—from the topmost ringlet 
of her aristocratic hair to the pearl buckles on her 
tiny black-velvet slippers.) 

Sprnpter. Mrs. Fell is the official promptress. 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning her head and looking at 


THE — 49 


Ritter) I prompt everybody. (She replaces her 
lip-stick in the hand-bag.) 

Ritter. Yes? 

Mrs. FELL. (Putting the hand-bag down again on 
the table) As well as lending my moral support. 

Ritrer. Yes? (SPINDLER laughs.) 

Mrs. Fett. (To Ritter) You bold thing! 

HossEFrossE. (Coming into view from the right 
hallway) Good evening, everybody! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to him, from Mrs. 
Ritter, with whom she has been discussing the 
change in the manuscript) Oh, good evening, Mr. 
Hossefrosse. (They shake hands.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Mr. Hossefrosse. (Mrs. PAmpi- 
NELLI comes forward into the room again, bringing 
the manuscript with her.) 

Hosserrosse. Mrs, Ritter—good evening. (Mrs. 
Ritter asks him tf he will have a glass of claret and 
he says yes, so she proceeds to fill him out one.) 

Mrs. PamprInetti I hope the rest of the people 
aren't far behind you. 

HosserrosseE. Are we late? 

Mrs. Fett. (Waving to him) Hello, Huxley. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Not very. 

HossEFrossE. Hello, Nelly. How are you? 
(Mrs. Ritter gives him the claret, and he stands up 
at the center door with her, drinking it. TEDDY 
SPEARING wanders in from the right hallway.) 

Mrs. PaMpPINELLI. (Passing below the little table 
below the piano and laying the manuscript on it) 
Here’s the manuscript, Nelly. (She continues to 
the armchair below the casement window, and, pick- 
ing up her notebook from the little table at her right, 
sits down and commences to make notes.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Seeing TEppy SPEARING and start- 
ing toward the right partition) Oh; Teddy Spear- 
ing! 

Teppy. Hello, Nelly. 


50 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Fett. (Beckoning him with her fan) Come 
here, dear. I’ve got something to tell you. (TEppy 
leans over the partition at the right and NELLY kneels 
on the partition-seat and whispers something to him. 
HossEFrrossE and Mrs. RITTER are conversing in the 
center door, Mrs. PAMPINELLI 1s making notes down 
at the right, RITTER is standing over in front of the 
mantelpiece, smoking, and SPINDLER 1s standing just 
below him, to his left, watching him.) 

SPINDLER. (In a sudden surge of courage, and 
taking a rather nonchalant step toward RITTER) 
Could you spare one of those cigars, please? (Ruit- 
TER looks at him keenly, then reaches m his vest 
pocket for a cigar.) 

Ritter. Do you smoke? 

SPINDLER. Semi-occasionally, yes. (RITTER hands 
him the cigar and he steps nonchalantly back to his 
former position, R1tTER keeping one eye on him. He 
examines the cigar curiously, and, being apparently 
very near-sighted, seems to have considerable diffi- 
culty in deciphering the band inscription.) 

Ritter. You can light either end of it. 

SPINDLER. (Very self-conscious) Yes,—I was 
just looking at this label; it’s rather keen. (He 
puts the cigar in his mouth, and attempts an attitude 
of careless detachment.) 

Ritter. Have you got a match? 

SPINDLER. I don’t (As he opens his mouth 
to speak the cigar falls on the floor, and he scram- 
bles after it.) 

Teppy. (Laughing incredulously and turning 
away from Netty) Oh, Nelly! 

Mrs. Fett. Upon my word, dear! Come here 
till I tell you. (TEppy returns to the partition and 
NELLY proceeds with her gossip.) 

SPINDLER. (Straightening up, and attempting an- 
other man-of-the-world attitude) 1 don’t care to 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 51 


smoke just now, thank you. (He holds the cigar m 
his fingers.) 

Ritter. (As things setile again) You've been in 
the army, haven’t you? | 

SPINDLER. (Turning to RITTER with a suggestion 
of military erectness) Yes; 1 put in the better part 

. of three months down at Upton, in the Personel. 

Ritter. I imagined from your salute you’d been 
around one of the camps. 

SPINDLER. Yes,—I was Third Lieutenant down 
there—(RuitteEr looks at him sharply ; then SPINDLER 
turns and meets the look )—Regimental Sergeant 
Major. 

Ritter. Rest. 

Mrs. Fett. (Coming away from the partition) 
So I’m going to ask him right out the very next time 
I meet him. (She comes down to the little table be- 
low the piano again. Mr. HossEFROsSE comes 
through the center door toward RitTER, rubbing his 
hands, and TEDDY moves over toward Mrs. RITTER, 
who is still officiating at the punch-bowl.) 


(TEppy and HosEFROSSE speaking together.) 


Teppy. (Speaking to Mrs. Fett) Maybe he 
doesn’t know it himself. 

HosserrosseE. (Addressing Ritter) Ah, Mr. 
Ritter! How do you do, sir? (They shake hands.) 

Ritter. How do you do? 


(Mrs. Fei and Hosserrosse together.) 


Mrs. Fett. Well, I’m going to find out, whether 
he does or not. 

HosserrosseE. (Yo Ritter) Decided there was 
no place like home, eh? (He laughs, with a mirth- 


‘ less effusiveness.) 


52 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Ritter. Are you in the show, too? (Mrs. Rit- 
TER fills out a glass of claret for TEDDy.) 


(Mrs. FELL and HosseFrrossE together.) 


Mrs. Fett. I should say he is in it. 

Hosserrosse. We're all in it. 

Mrs. Fett. He’s the leading man. (HosseE- 
FROSSE raises his right hand toward NELLY and 
laughs deprecatingly.) Unfortunately, there isn’t a 
place in the play where he can use that perfectly gor- 
geous singing-voice of his. (HoSSEFROSSE is quite 
overcome, and crosses, with hand extended, to SPIND- 
LER.) It’s true. 

HossEFrosseE. Good evening, Mr. Spindler. 

SPINDLER. Good evening, good evening. (In 
shifting the cigar from his right hand to his left he 
drops tt.) 

HosseFrrosseE. Uh! I beg your pardon! (Mrs. 
RitTeErR laughs at something TEppy has said to her, 
then hands him a glass of claret. Mr. HOSSEFROSSE 
stoops to pick up SPINDLER’S cigar.) 

SPINDLER. (Stooping also, after the cigar) That’s 
all right. 


(HossErrossE and SPINDLER. together.) 


HossEFrosseE. I'll get it. (He picks it up and 
hands it to SPINDLER.) 

SPINDLER. It isn’t lit. 

HosseFrossE. There we are. 

SPINDLER. Thank you very much, 

HosserrossE. Don’t mention it. (He crosses 
down to NELLY, who is looking through the manu- 
script at the table below the piano.) 

Teppy. (Coming through the center door and 
speaking to Ritter) How do you do, Mr. Ritter? 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 53 


Ritter. (Shaking hands with him) How are 
you? 

Teppy. (Nodding to SPINDLER) Good evening. 

SPINDLER. Good evening, sir; good evening. 

Mrs. PamMpinEtui. Teddy! 

Teppy. (Crossing toward the piano) Yes? 


(Mrs. Ritter, Mrs. PAMPINELLI and HossEFrossE 
together. ) 


Mrs. Ritter. (Waving her handkerchief toward 
the right hallway) Hello, Florence! 

Mrs. Pampinetii. (Addressing Treppy) Did 
you telephone that man about those tickets? 

HossEFrrossE. (Standing at Mrs. FEt’s left 
shoulder) What are you doing, Nelly? 


(Frorence, Mrs. Fett and Teppy together.) 


FrorENcE. (Out in the right hallway) Am I the 
last? (She hurries into view and whispers some- 
thing to Pauta at the center door which sends 
Pavuta into a fit of laughing.) 

Mrs. Fert. (To Hosserrosse) Making more 
changes. (He crosses over to the right in front of 
NELLy and sits on the piano-stool, back of Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI. ) 

Teppy. (Answering Mrs. PAMPINELLI) Yes, I 
did, Mrs. Pampinelli. He said he’d have them there 
all right. 

Mrs. PAmpiInetyi. Thank you so much. (TEp- 
DY goes up and crosses above the piano, where he 
engages Mr. HossEFrossE in conversation.) Hello, 
Florence! (JENNY comes into view from the right 
hallway.) 

FLorENcCE. (Coming straight forward from the 
center door) Am I the last? (The front doorbell 


54 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


rings again, and JENNY turns and goes back into the 
right hallway again.) 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. No, but you’re very close to 
it. How are you, dear? 

FLorENcE. Rushed like mad. (Flipping her lynx 
muff.) Hello, everybody. Hello, Nelly. (She 
swings round to her left.) 

Mrs. Fetxt. Hello, Flossie. 

FioreNce. How do you do, Mr. Spindler? 


(HosseEFrrossE gets up and whispers something to 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI, in which she agrees.) 


SPINDLER. How do you do? (RITTER bows very 
graciously to FLORENCE, and Mrs. RITTER comes 
forward to her husband’s right, eating a piece of 
cake.) 

FLorENcE. (Extending the muff at arm’s length 
at Ritter) No, I don’t speak to you at all. (She 
removes her stole.) 

Ritter. What’s the matter? 

FioreNcE. Paula, did you know your husband is 
becoming very snooty? (HossEFROSSE resumes his 
seat on the piano-stool.) 

Mrs. Ritrer. (Sliding her hand through Rit- 
TER’s right arm) Why didn’t you speak to Florence 
at the station today, Fred? 

Ritter. I didn’t see you today. 

Fiorence. Well, my dear, you must be getting 
old; for Irene Colter and I did everything but stand 
on our heads to attract your attention. (On the last 
word of this sentence she flips one of the tails of the 
stole at him, and he ducks, as though afraid of get- 
ting hurt.) Where shall I put these, Paula? 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI rises quietly from her chair at 
the right, and, lost in thought, proceeds slowly 
and majestically across in front of Mrs. FELL 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 55 


to the middlz of the room, tapping her lead-pen- 
cil on the notebook.) 


Mrs. Ritrer. I'll take them. (She takes the 
muff and stole from FLORENCE and goes up and out 
into the right hallway with them.) 

Fiorence. (Espying Teppy up back of the piano, 
shading his eyes with his hand, as though trying to 
see her from a great distance.) Hello, Teddy dear! 
(Goes toward him.) What are you doing away back 
here in the corner? (She makes a sudden move as 
though io tickle him in the ribs, but he laughs and 
jumps away. Mrs. Pawprnetsi has by this ‘time 
reached the center of the room, where she stands 
turning from side to side in a profound indecision 
as to the relationship of certain positions. She inds- 
cates her line of thought by divers pointings and flip- 
pings of the lead-pencil. Rrrrer watches her with 
narrow amusement ; and, presenily, Mrs. Fett, who 
is still occupied with the manuscript at the litile table, 
looks up, distracted by the gyrations of the lead-pen- 
cil.) 

Mrs. Fett. What’s the matier, Betty? 

Mrs. Pawptnetti. I was just wondering about a 
little piece of business here. 

Sprnprer. (Siepping to the back of the armchair 
at the left and leaning over ti toward Mrs. Pampt- 
NELLI) Can I help you, Mrs. P.? 

Mes. Pamprnerirt. (Without turning to him) 
No, thank you; it’s purely technical (He resumes 
his position ai the left corner of the mantelpiece and 
glances at RITTER, who is obliged to use his hand- 
kerchief to hide his amusement. Mrs. RITTER comes 
in through the door at the right, above the piano.) 

Mrs. Fert. Betty, did I tell you I saw Clara 

d today? (But Mrs. Pamprnettt is still deep 
in technical profundities, and simply silences her with 
a gesture of her right hand.) 


56 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Ritter. (Coming forward at the right of 
the piano) Where did you see her, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. Darlington’s, at the mourning coun- 
ter. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming suddenly out of her 
abstraction, and turning to Mrs. Fett) Is she going 
in black ? 

Mrs. Fett. My dear, she’s im it already. 

TWILLER. (Coming in the right hallway) Good 
evening ! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. She’s very foolish, under the 
circumstances. 

Mrs. Fett. That’s just what I told her today. 

TWILLER. (Coming through the center door and 
forward at the left of the piano) Good evening, 
Mrs. Ritter. 

Mrs. Ritter. Good evening, Mr. Twiller. 

Twitter. (To Hosserrosse, casually) Huxley. 

HosseFrrossE. (Shifting from the piano-stool to 
the armchair, which Mrs. PAMPINELLI has just va- 
cated, and proceeding to study his part, which he has 
taken from his pocket) Hello, Ralph. 

Mrs. Fett. Hello, Ralph. 

Twitter. Nelly! 

Mrs. PamMPINELLI. (Still in the middle of the 
room) You're the ten o’clock scholar again tonight, 
Mr. Twiller. (JENNY crosses from the right hall- 
way to the left, and goes out.) 

Twitter. I’m awiully sorry, Mrs. P., really; but 
the fates seem to be against me. (TEDDY gives a 
little whistle at him. He turns and sees him, stand- 
ing with FLORENCE, up back of the piano.) Hello, 
Teddy! (He goes toward him, and Teppy shoots at 
him with his thumb and forefinger, by way of re- 
ply. FLORENCE smiles and extends her left arm and 
hand toward him.) 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and TwiLLerR together.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 57 


Mrs, PAMPINELLI. (Moving over from the middle 
of the room to the left of Mrs. FELL, who is still at 
the table below the piano) What was that you were 
saying, Nelly, about Clara Sheppard? 

Twitter. Flossie, dear, I didn’t see you two up 
here! (He takes FLorENcE’s hand and kisses it. 
Then he crosses to the left and shakes hands with 
Ritter; then over to SPINDLER, and then starts back 
toward FLORENCE, at the piano. As he passes Rit- 
TER, RITTER taps him on the right shoulder ; he turns, 
and RitTER asks him something. He replies, and 
they stand chatting for a moment; then RITTER indi- 
cates the partition-seat behind them and they sit 
down, to talk it over.) 

Mrs. Fett. Why, I simply told her—I said, 
“Don’t be spectacular, dear; it'll only make it more 
difficult for you when you want to marry again. 
And,” I said, “you probably will marry again.” 


(SPINDLER sits on the chair below the door at the 
left.) 


Mrs. Pampinetii. Of course she will. 

Mrs. Fett. “For you’re a comparatively young 
woman. So,” I said, “just get through the next 
few months as undramatically as possible. (JENNY 
enters in the left hallway and takes empty glasses 
off.) Iknow he was your first husband, and all that ; 
but, after all,” I said, “he was only your husband: it 
isn’t as though you’d lost someone who was very 
close to you” —(She turns her head and speaks di- 
rectly to Mrs. PAMPINELLI)—like one of your own 
people—(Turning to Mrs. Ritter, who is standing 
at her right )—or something like that, I mean. “And,” 
I said, “another thing, darling —always remember— 
he’d have very soon put another in your place if it 
had been you.” (She finishes the remark to Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI. ) 


58 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Knowingly, and with con- 
viction) I should say he would. 

Mrs. FELL. (Reaching for her hand-bag) And 
I felt like saying, “And I could give you the names 
and addresses right now of several that he would 
have put in your place long ago, only for the law.” 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a shade of confidence) 
She must have known it. 

Mrs. Fett. (Reflecting the tone) Of course, she 
knew it. 


(FLorENCE leaves TEppy, up at the piano, and crosses 
to RitTER and TWILter, to show them a piece 
of music. They rise, and she indicates a certain 
point on the sheet; then she continues down to 
SPINDLER, who rises at her approach, and shows 
it to him.) 


Mrs. Ritter. How is she, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. My dear, she looks a perfect wreck. 
(FLORENCE sits on the arm of the armchair at the 
left and SPINDLER resumes the litile chair below the 
left door, drawing it a bit closer to the armchair. 
He appears to be telling FLORENCE something very 
interesting.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Poor soul. 

Mrs. Fett. She says no one will ever know how 
she feels—about losing that part. And she says she 
simply cannot wait until tomorrow night—(She 
turns to Mrs. PAMPINELLI)—to see Paula’s inter- 
pretation of it. (Mrs. RirTEr gives an inane litile 
laugh, and Mrs. FE.u turns quickly to her.) She’s 
heard so much about it. (JENNY comes in from the 
left hallway again with fresh glasses. She sets them 
down on the hallway table and proceeds to arrange 
them.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Is she coming to the perform- 
ance tomorrow night? 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 59 


Mrs. Fett. She says she'll see that performance, 
if she has to disguise herself. 

Mrs. RittTer. Doesn’t that sound just like her? 
(NELLY nods agreement.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes,—she’s so full of dramatic 
instinct. 

Mrs. Fett. (With a touch of bitterness) He 
never appreciated it, though. 

Mrs. Pampinettr. My dear, has amy artist ever 
been adequately appreciated? 

Mrs. Ritter. I understand he was very heavily 
insured. 

Mrs, Fett. Oh, yes! 

Mrs. PaMpPpINeLLI. She seemed very optimistic 
when I spoke to her on the telephone. 

Mrs. Fetv. I believe your husband’s company had 
him insured for quite a lot, didn’t they, Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Lowering her tone) I believe 
they did, Nelly—but I couldn’t say for just how 
much. 

Mrs. Fett. (Quietly detaching herself) I must 
find that out. (She passes back of Mrs. Pampt- 
NELLI and across toward Ritter. Mrs. RITTER and 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI continue in conversation.) Fred- 
erick, I want to ask you something. (He steps for- 
ward, excusing himself to Twitter.) Pardon me, 
Ralph. 

Twitter. That’s all right, Nelly. (He crosses 
again to TEDDY.) 

Mrs. Fett. Frederick, what did you think when 
you heard Jimmy Sheppard was dead? 

Ritter. Why, I thought he was dead, of course. 
(Mrs. RitTER leaves Mrs. PAMPINELLI, passing 
back of her, and goes up to assist JENNY with her 
arrangements. Mrs. PAMPINELLI busies herself 
with making notations on the margin of the manu- 
script, at the little table.) 

Mrs, Fett. (Flipping the tip of her fan in his 


60 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


face) Oh, did you, Smarty! (RITTER raises his 
right hand, as though to ward off the blow.) Well, 
listen, Frederick. (He atiends, and she becomes 
confidential.) He leit quite a bit of insurance, didn’t 
he? 

Ritter. Yes—about three hundred thousand, I 
believe. 

Mrs. Fetrt. (Becoming generally stoney) Is 
there a will, do you know? > 

Ritter. I don’t know; I suppose there is. 

Mrs. Fett. Well, I hope she was sharp enough 
to see that there is. Because if there isn’t, you 
know, she’s only entitled to a third in this state. 
That’s all the widow’s entitled to. And, you know, 
Frederick, Clara Sheppard could never in this world 
get along on a bare hundred thousand dollars; you 
know that as well as I do. 

Ritter. Well, she has quite a bit of money of 
her own, hasn’t she? 

Mrs. Fett. Oh, tons of it, yes; but there’s no 
sense in using her own if she can use his. (RITTER 
glances at her, but she has turned away slightly to 
cough, behind her fan. JENNY goes out at the left 
hallway.) Was sudden, wasn’t it? 

RitTer. Yes, it was. 

Mrs. Fett. We were terribly inconvenienced. 
Because I’d simply deluged my friends with tickets. 
(Mrs. RITTER is up at the punch-bowl, sampling the 
punch and nibbling at the cakes.) 

Ritter. I can’t understand why you didn’t post- 
pone the show. 

Mrs. FELL. That’s what J wanted to do; but Mrs. 
P. here was superstitious. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Catching her name, and 
straightening up from the manuscript, imperiously 
What are you saying about Mrs. P., Nelly Fell? 

Mrs, Fett. Why, Frederick was wondering why 
we didn’t postpone the performance when Jimmy 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 61 


Sheppard died,—and J told him you were supersti- 
tious about a postponement. 

Mrs. PampiIneLyi. No, Nelly, I was not super- 
stitious, so please don’t say that I was; I shouldn’t 
care to have such an impression get abroad. 

Mrs. Feti. (Touching her hair) Well, you were 
something, Betty. 

Mrs. Pamprnetti, Yes, Nelly, I admit that I 
was something,—but it was not superstitious. I 
was,—(She looks out and away off, and feels for the 
word)—intuitive. (She turns her head and looks 
directly at RittER, who drops his eyes to the tip of 
his cigar. NEtty FELL, following Mrs. PAMPINEL- 
Lis eyes, looks at RiTTER also. Then everyone’s 
eyes shift to Mrs. PAMPINELLI. FLORENCE turns 
languidly and looks; and Mrs. RiTTER, with a glass 
of punch in one hand and a small cake in the other, 
moves forward, in the middle of the room, and stands 
looking and listening—and chewing. HOSSEFROSSE 
steps over to the table behind which Mrs. Pampt- 
NELLI is standing, and takes the manuscript,—re- 
turning with tt to the armchair, and becoming ab- 
sorbed in a comparison of a certain page of it with 
his individual part.) I have struggled so long to in- 
augurate a Little Theatre Movement in this com- 
munity, that I had intuitively anticipated the occur- 
rence of some obstacle to thwart me; so that, when 
the telephone bell rang, on the night of Mr. Shep- 
pard’s death, I said to myself, before I even took 
down the receiver—(She plants her lead-pencil on the 
table and assumes something of the aspect of a cru- 
sader)—“This is my event. Something has hap- 
pened—that is going to put my sincerity in thistmove- 
ment to the test. And I must remember, as Mr. 
Lincoln said at Gettysburg, ‘It is better that we 
should perish, than that those ideals for which we 
struggle should perish.’” (She turns her gaze in 
the direction of Ritter, but Mrs. RITTER is first in 


62 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


the line of vision, with her eyes full of the coast of 
Greenland, and her mouth full of cake. As she be- 
comes suddenly conscious that Mrs. PAMPINELLI has 
stopped talking and is looking directly at her, she 
meets the look and breaks into an utterly irrelevant 
little laugh.) 

Ritter. It’s a singular thing, but I’ve noticed that 
invariably there’s a fatality connected with these 
amateur performances. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Unfortunately, that is true, 
Mr. Ritter, I agree with you. But then, we are not 
dismayed ; we have the lessons of history to fortify 
us; for whenever the torch of essential culture has 
been raised—(She raises the lead-pencil as though 
it were a torch )—there has unfailingly been the con- 
comitant exactment of a human life. (She stands 
holding the torch aloft until the little cuckoo clock 
over the door at the left cuckoos the half-hour. Rit- 
TER looks at tt, and NELLY FELL gives it a glance. 
FLORENCE, too, turns and looks up. Then Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI turns her eyes slowly upon it and with- 
ers it with a look.) Well, children, it’s eight-thirty. 
(She gathers up her train and tosses tt across her 
left arm, then comes around to the right in front of 
the table where she has been standing. Mrs. RITTER 
returns to the table in the hallway and sets down her 
empty glass. Rr1TTER goes up after her and she fills 
him out a drink. FLORENCE rises from the arm of 
the chair, and, passing in front of the table at the 
left, goes up and across back of the piano and out 
the door, at the right. As she passes above the piano 
she says something to TEDpy, who has come down at 
the right of the piano, from his late position up near 
the door, and is crossing below it. TWwTtLLEeR turns 
and goes out through the center door and stands 
leaning over the partition in the right hallway. Hos- 
SEFROSSE rises, settles his clothes and clears hs 
throat. Mr. SPINDLER, also, has risen, and is re- 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 63 


placing his chair back against the wall, below the 
door.) ‘Time we went “unto the breach” once more. 

Mrs. Fett. (Stepping forward a little to the cen- 
ter of the room, and stretching her hand toward MR. 
Hosserrosse.) You have my props, Huxley. 

HosserrosseE. (Crossing below the table, to give 
her the manuscript) 1 beg your pardon, Nelly; I 
was just looking at something here. 

Mrs. Fett. Thanks. (She pulls him toward her 
and whispers something. ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Standing at the left of the 
little table) Have you my other pencil, Mr. Spind- 
ler? 

SPINDLER. (Hurrying across toward her) 1 be- 
lieve you left it over here on this little table. (He 
passes below TEppy, who is just crossing to the left, 
and continues on between the piano and the table to 
the little table below the casement window. NELLY 
Feu breaks into a shrill giggle, pushes HOSSEFROSSE 
toward the center door, and crosses to the left, pass- 
ing below the table. She is in a violent state of laugh- 
ter. HOSSEFROSSE goes on up to the center door, and, 
excusing himself to Ritter, who is standing there 
drinking, passes out into the right hallway. TEDDY 
comes around back of the armchair at the left and 
sits in the armchair. Mrs. PAMPINELLI has moved 
to the right of the table below the piano, where she 
stands reviewing her notes.) 

Mrs. Fett. (To Teppy, confidentially, as she 
takes up her position on the chair below the door at 
the left) Ill tell you later. (She sits down.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI, (Tapping her lead-pencil on 
the table and addressing them generally) Now, folks 
—(RurteEr sets his glass on the table and steps into 
the right hallway, where he converses with TWILLER 
for a second, then stands listening; while Mrs. Rir- 
TER hurries in and settles herself on the partition- 
seat at the left and listens attentively )—you under- 


64 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


stand, of course, that the setting will be just as it 
was at the Civic Club on the fourteenth; only, of 
course, as you know, the stage at Hutchy Kutchy is 
considerably larger. That, however, need not con- 
cern us particularly, as the entrances and exits will 
be relatively the same. (She finishes this speech to 
Mr. SPINDLER, who is standing at her right, waiting 
for her to take the lead-pencil.) Oh, thank you, Mr. 
Spindler. (She gives him the one she has—simply 
an exchange of pencils, and he salutes and returns 
to a position below the casement window, FLORENCE 
comes in at the right door again, wearing her furs, 
and comes down at the right of the piano. Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI moves a little toward the center door.) 
Are you going to watch the rehearsal, Mr. Ritter? 

Mrs. Fett. Of course, he is! 

Ritter. (Coming through the center door) If I 
wouldn’t be in the way. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLi. Not at all,—very glad to have 
you. 

Mrs. Fett. He can sit over here with the promp- 
tress. (He crosses toward NELty, picking up the 
little chair above the table at the left, as he passes. 
HossEFrRossE emerges from the right hallway carry- 
ing a light, soft hat, a cane and gloves, and stands im 
the center door. FLORENCE steps across below the 
piano and asks Mrs. PAMPINELLI something.) Ii 
you can behave yourself. (FLORENCE returns to the 
corner of the piano nearest the window and drapes 
herself on it. She’s a very gorgeous-looking thing, 
in a sleeveless gown of canary-colored metallic silk, 
made quite daringly severe, to exploit the long, lithe 
lines of her greyhound figure. There’s a chain-effect 
girdle with the dress, of vivid jade, worn loose, and 
an ornament of the same jade on the left shoulder, 
from which the goods fall in a plain drape down tn 
front of the arm to the bottom of the skirt. She has 
a perfect shock of hair—rather striking,—a kind of 


-_ 
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v 
So 
3 
a, 
v 
v 
ip) 


ToRCH- BEARERS 


“THE 


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no s 
he 1 
me i 
. 
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. 
{ 
f 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 65 


suspicious auburn; and she has it bobbed. Her slip- 
pers and stockings are white.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You needn’t sit there yet, 
Teddy, I’m going to run through the last scene first. 

Teppy. (Rising) Oh, all right. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. For Mr. Hossefrosse’s lines. 
(TEDDY passes in front of the table at the left and 
goes up to the center door and out into the right hall- 
way, where he chats with TwILLerR and watches the 
proceedings over the partition. SPINDLER comes over 
and asks» Mrs. PAMPINELLI something. RITTER 
places his chair beside NELLY’s, above it, and sits 
down, assuming the attitude of a lover.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Pushing RittER’s arm away) Stop 
it, Frederick Ritter! Paula! (SPINDLER returns to 
his post.) : 

Mrs. Ritter. (Inanely) Behave yourself, Fred. 

Mrs. PampINneLtt. Now, folks ——(She moves 
slowly down and across toward the table at the left.) 
—Mr. Spindler will attend to the various cues to- 
night, and at the performance tomorrow night as 
well. (Speaking directly to NELLY.) So we won't 
have to bother about that. (Turning round to her 
left and addressing the others) He will do all the 
trapping. (She raps a little.) And he has a little 
telephone-bell of his own—(She moves across again 
toward the back of the table at the right )—which he 
has very kindly tendered the use of. Have you that 
bell with you tonight, Mr. Spindler? (He holds out 
a bell and battery arrangement on a piece of wood, 
having taken it from his pocket tmmediately she re- 
ferred to tt, and rings tt twice.) Splendid. (She 
passes above the table and comes forward ai the right 
of it, very thoughtfully.) That’s splendid. (Sprnp- 
LER replaces the battery.) Now, children,—(She 
crosses in front of the iable)—I think, first, I should 
like to take that scene at the finish, between Doctor 
Arlington and his wife. (She is standing at the left 


66 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


of the table, speaking directly to HossEFROSSE, who 
is standing in the center door, with his hat on, at a 
rather absurd angle, and holding his cane in one hand 
and Ins gloves in the other, in a very stilted fashion. 
HOSSEFROSSE is a terribly well-fed=looking person 
in dinner clothes, perhaps thirty-eight years of age,— 
flamingly florid of complexion, and with an effusive- 
ness of manner that is probably only saved from 
absolute effervescence by the ponderous counter- 
poise of his dignity.) There are a few little things 
in there I want to correct. (Crossing over back of 
the table at the Ieft toward Mrs. Fett.) Page eigh- 
teen or nineteen, I think it is, Nelly. It’s the scene 
at the finish between Mr. Hossefrosse and Miss Mc- 
Crickett. (Netty looks for the place, through her 
lorgnon.) Oh! (Mrs. PaAmMPINELLI turns back to 
the others again )—and one thing more I want to 
mention, boys and girls, before I forget it. (She 
takes a funny little coughing spell.) Pardon me. 
(She coughs again.) Oh, dear me! (She closes 
her eyes tight and shivers her head. } 

Mrs. Fett. Page eighteen did you say it was, 
Betty? 

Mrs. PamPINELLI. Eighteen or nineteen, yes. 
It’s somewhere right in there. 

Mrs, Fett. Oh, yes, here it is. I have it. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning back to the people, 
and speaking with careful emphasis) When you are 
going on and off the stage, be very careful of those 
little wooden strips that they have across the bot- 
toms of the doors, and don’t trip. (Mrs. RitTTER 
laughs self-consciously and HOSSEFROSSE leans over 
and says something to her. FLORENCE laughs, and 
turns and says something to SPINDLER, and TEDDY 
and Twitter laugh and look toward Mrs. RiTTER.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Looking out around Mrs. PAmpt- 
NELLI to see Mrs. Ritter) Paula! (Then she sits 
back, laughing, and says something to RITTER.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 67 


Mrs. PamprInetii. I really think that was what 
made some of you so nervous at the Civic Club the 
last time. So, watch it, all of you, for they will prob- 
ably have just the same thing down at Hutchy 
Kutchy.—There is perhaps nothing quite so discon- 
certing as to trip—as one comes on a stage. Going 
off—is not so bad; but—coming on, I have found 
that it requires a tremendous artist to rise above it. 
(She starts down toward the table at the right, be- 
low the piano.) So, watch it, all of you. Now, is 
everybody in his place? (She stops below the table 
and picks up her notebook.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Handing Ritter the manuscript 
and getting up suddenly) Oh, just one moment, 
Betty! (She teeters across to the table at the right.) 
I want to get my other glasses—they’re right here 
inmy bag. (She picks up the bag and starts back to 
her place.) I beg pardon, everybody, but I can’t tell 
one letter from another without these glasses. (This 
last sentence culminates in a flighty giggle, for no 
reason at all, and then she sits down, and heaves a 
deep sigh of amusement. ) 

Mrs. PampIneLtI. (Who has been looking at 
her steadily) Now, is everybody ready? (Mrs. 
FELL simply lifts her eyes and looks at her; then 
proceeds to get her glasses out of the bag.) Use your 
voices, children, and try to do it tonight just as you 
are going to do it tomorrow night at Hutchy Kutchy. 
(She moves a step or two nearer the middle of the 
room.) Doctor Arlington is still in his office. 

HossEFrosse. Yes. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Rush 

Twitter. (Coming in through the center door) 
Yes, 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Is just about to make his 
exit. (He crosses above the piano and stands wait- 
ing at the right door. He’s a bald-headed youth, be- 
tween thirty and thirty-five, in dinner clothes, ex- 


68 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


cessively well-groomed but utterly nondescript.; 
And Mrs. Arlington is putting on the deadlatch. 
(FLORENCE straightens up.) All ready, now? (She 
holds up her hands for a second, then claps them 
once.) All right. (TWwILLER goes out through the 
right door and Mrs, PAMPINELLI moves over toward 
the right, watching FLORENCE.) 

FLORENCE. (Pretending to put on a deadlatch) 
Deadlatch. 

SPINDLER. (Standing in rigid military fashion ) 
Click-click. (FLORENCE turns and starts across 
toward the middle of the room, passing between the 
piano and the table below it.) 

Fiorence. (Glancing toward the center door) 
You can come out now, Clyde; they’ve gone. (She 
continues to the table at the left and stands resting 
one hand upon it.) 

HosseFrossE. (Bustling forward from the center 
door, removing his hat as he comes) Anybody here, 
David? (SPINDLER whistles shrilly, takes a step for- 
ward and tries to attract HOSSEFROSSE’S attention, by 
holding up his right arm and flicking his fingers at 
him. TrEppy laughs and turns to tell TWILLER, who 
is just rejoining him from the right hallway, what 
has happened. FLoreNnce turns and looks at HossE- 
FROSSE, then at Mrs. PAMPINELLI, who is standing 
at the right of the table below the piano. Mrs. Rirt- 
TER gets up and simply staggers laughing through 
the center door and out to TEDDY and TWILLER.) 

FLorENcE. (Speaking to Mrs. PAMPINELLI) 
That isn’t right, is it? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to SPINDLER at her 
right and holding up her hand) Please don’t whis- 
tle, Mr. Spindler! I can’t stand whistling. 

FiorENceE. I thought you were going to take the 
last scene first. 


(Mrs. PamMpIneLti and Mrs. FELL together.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 69 


Mrs. PampPINnELLI. (Moving around in front of 
the table and going near to HossEFROsSSE) We are 
taking the last scene first, Mr. Hossefrosse, that is 
the first scene. 

Mrs. Fett. (Holding up her hand) Wait a mo- 
ment, wait one moment, just one moment, some- 
body’s off the track! (Twitter and TrEppy laugh 
again and HossEFRossE turns and looks at them. 
TWILLER shakes his head, flips his hand at him and 
walks away into the right hallway, as though deplor- 
ing his stupidity. RitTER begins to laugh.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I thought I had made that 


sufficiently clear. 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI, Mrs. FELL, SPINDLER and 
TWILLER together.) ‘ 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. We are taking the scene at 
the finish, Mr. Hossefrosse, between you and Miss 
McCrickett. 

Mrs. Fett. (Rising) That’s the first scene, 
Huxley, and we are taking the last scene, between 
you and Florence, on page nineteen, right here. 
(She indicates the place in the manuscript.) 

SPINDLER. (Addressing TEppy) I hope he doesn’t 
pull anything like that tomorrow night. (He re- 
turns to his place below the window.) 

TWILLER. (Coming back into view from the hall- 
way) Don’t weaken, Huxley, you know what they 
say about a bad rehearsal. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Topping them all) Please, 


children, please! 


: 


Mrs. Fett. Down at the bottom of the page. 


(Mrs. RitTER comes through the center door again 


and sits down on the left partition-seat.) 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Speaking directly to Mrs. 


: Fett) Please—— (Mrs. FELL sits down again, 


slowly, Mrs. PAMPINELLI looking at her stonily.) 


70 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Let us have one director, if you please. (She with- 
draws her eyes slowly, and NEtty darts a bitter look 
at her.) Now, don’t let us have everybody talking 
at once; it only confuses people, and wastes a lot 
of time. (HossEFrrossE stands bewildered in the 
middle of the room. Mrs. PAMPINELLI addresses 
him directly, speaking with measured emphasis.) 
We are taking the lJast scene first, Mr. Hossefrosse: 
it is the scene at the finish, between you and Miss 
McCrickett, just before Paula comes on—— 

HosserrossE, Oh, I beg your pardon! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. And after Mr. Rush has left 
the|stage. 

HosseEFrossE. I thought we were beginning right 
from the beginning. 

Mrs. Pampinetti. No, Id like to run through 
the last scene first, if you don’t mind; there are a few 
little things in it I'd like to correct. 

HosseFrrossE. (Turning and starting for the cen- 
ter door) ‘This was the wrong entrance for that 
line, anyway. 

Mrs. Pamptnetii. And you won’t need your hat 
and cane in this scene. 

HossErrosse. ‘That’s so, too. 

Twitter. (Who is standing out just at the right 
of the center door) Ill take them, Hux. 

HosseEFrosseE. (Handing him the hat, gloves and 
cane) Thanks. (Turning to Mrs. Ritter.) I'll get 
straightened out after a while. (Pauta laughs.) 

Mrs. PamMPpiIneLii. Now, Florence dear, will you 
go back? 

FiLorENcE. (Crossing back again to the window) 
Certainly. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Crossing back to the right, 
in front of the table) And take it right from Mr. 
Rush’s exit. 

FiorENcE. (Looking round at HossEFRosse) 
Ready? 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 71 


Hosserrosse. (In the center door) Yes, I’m 
ready. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (To FLORENCE) Go on. 

FLORENCE. (Repeating her former business of 
putting on a deadlatch) Deadlatch. 

SPINDLER. (Having again assumed his rigid mih- 
tary attitude) Click—click. (FLORENCE turns and , 
crosses again between the piano and the table.) 

FLorENcE. (With a glance at the center door) 
You can come out now, Clyde; they’ve gone. (She 
continues to her former position at the right of the 
little table at the left. HossEFRossE steps resolutely 
through the center door, gives her a wicked look, 
glances toward the door at the right, then strides 
forward and plants himself directly opposite her, his 
head thrown back, his eyes ablaze, and his arms 
akimbo. ) 

HosserrossE. Did you come here to make a 
scene ? 

Frorence. (Languidly, and without turning) 
Have I made one? 

HosseEFrosse. (Getting loud) What are you do- 
ing here? 

Fiorence. (Raising her hand to enjoin silence) 
Sh-sh (He turns abruptly and looks toward the 
door at the right; then back to her again.) 

HossEFrossE. I want an explanation of this! 

FioreNce. (Turning to him, and rather casually ) 
So do I. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Standing at the right of the 
table below the piano) Oh, more imperious, Flor- 
ence dear! (FLORENCE and HossEFRossE look at 
her.) More of this. (She lifts her shoulders, eye- 
brows and chin, to illustrate her idea of the general 
hauteur of the line.) Much more. 

Fiorence. (Vaguely) Don’t you think she would 
cry there? (Mrs. PAMPINELLI looks at her steadily 
for a pause and thinks; then she rests her lead-pen- 


72 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


cil on the table and tilts her head a bit to one side.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Do you want to cry there, 
dear? 

FioreNceE. No, but I can if you want me to. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No,—personally, I think she’s 
speaking more in anger than in sorrow. You see, 
dear, you are impersonating a wronged wife. Now, 
you yourself, Florence darling, are an unmarried 
girl :—it is difficult for you to realize how excessively 
annoyed with her husband a married woman can 
become. I think I would take it with more lift. 
More of this, you know. (She repeats her former 
illustration.) 

FLORENCE. (Endeavoring to imitate the manner 
of one and speaking in a deep, tragic tone) So 
do I. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Perfect. 

HossEFrossE. (Turning to Mrs. PAMPINELL!) 
Go on? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes, go on. 

HossEFrrosseE. (Clearing his throat and trying to 
summon his attack) What is your reason for sneak- 
ing into my office at this hour? 

FLorEeNcE. Is it necessary that your wife have a 
reason for coming to your office? 

HossEFROsSE. You want to embarrass Mrs. Rush, 
that was it, wasn’t it? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Waving her hand toward 
them with an upward movement) Tempo, children! 

FLorENcE. I wanted to meet my rival. 

HossEFrossE. You could have met Mrs. Rush 
under more candid circumstances. 

Mrs. PamMPINneLii. (Moving around toward them, 
in front of the table) Tempo, children! 

FLORENCE. The present ones suited my purposes 
better. 

HossEFrossE. (Turning away impatiently) Nat- 
urally! You wanted a scene! (He starts over to 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 73 


the right, but Mrs. PAMPINELLI is standing right in 
his way, so he stops short, but maintains the physical 
tautness of his character. FLORENCE, too, has turned 
away, to the left, and is moving across in front of 
the table toward the armchair.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Oblivious of HossEFROSSE, 
and still making her upward waving gesture over his 
shoulder) Tempo, Florence! (Suddenly becoming 
conscious that she is obstructing HOSSEFROSSE’S cross 
and stepping below him) I beg your pardon. 

HossEFrossE. (Bowing stiffly) Not atall. (He 
continues over to the right and stops, right in front 
of SPINDLER, and they stand looking into each 
other's eyes; while Mrs. PAMPINELLI comes up at 
the left of the table to the piano.) 

FLORENCE. (Sitting down in the armchair) 1 
think if I were a scenic woman I’ve had ample oppor- 
tunity during the last fifteen minutes to indulge my- 
self. 

HosserrossE. (Still looking into SPINDLER’S 
eyes) You did, I think 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Beckoning to SPINDLER) 
Mr. Spindler. 

HosserrossE. I had the pleasure of hearing you. 

FLORENCE. Was it a pleasure, Clyde? 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and HossEFrosseE together. ) 


Mrs. PamMPINeLii. (Still beckoning to Spinp- 
LER) Mr. Spindler! 

HosseFrossE. (Whirling around and glaring at 
FLoRENCE) It,appears to amuse you! (SPINDLER 
steps below HossEFROSSE and passes up in front of 
him to Mrs. PAMPINELLI, who whispers something 
to him.) 

FLORENCE. (Unfastening her neckpiece) I have 
an inopportune sense of humor. 


74 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


HossEFrossE. You should be able to appreciate 
the situation, you created it! 

FLorENcE. (Looking over at him) I didn’t cre- 
ate her husband. 

HosseFrrossE. (Making a little gesture of annoy- 
ance) I’m afraid I’m stuck! (He tries hard to 
think, and Mrs. PAMPINELLI makes a gesture to- 
ward Mrs. FE.t to give him the line, but NELLY ts 
occupied in telling RiTTER a story.) But don’t tell 
me! (He feels for the line again, and Mrs. PAmpt- 
NELLI tries to attract NELLY’s attention.) I guess 
I’m gone. (Suddenly NE tty bursts into a fit of 
laughing, having made the point of the story.) 

Mrs. PamPINELLi. What is the line, Nelly? 
(RITTER nudges her.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Stopping suddenly in her laughter 
and hitting him with her fan) Stop that! 

Ritter. Get on the job; you’re holding up the 
show. (NELLY looks excitedly toward Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What is the line, Nelly, 
please? 

Mrs. Fett. What! Oh, I beg your pardon, is 
somebody stuck ? 

Mrs. PampINnetti. Mr. Hossefrosse. 

HossEFrossE. Got another mind-blank. 

Mrs. Fetr. Oh, well, now, just wait one minute, 
please, till I see where I’m at. (She searches fran- 
tically through the manuscript.) Oh, yes, here it is! 
(RITTER indicates a place on the page. She pushes 
his arm out of the way.) I didn’t create her hus- 
band. (TEppy and TwtLxer laugh.) 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI, FLORENCE and HOSSEFROSSE 
together. ) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No, dear, we've just passed 
that. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 75 


Fiorence. I’ve already said that, Nelly. 

HossEFRosseE. It’s the next line. 

Mrs. Fert. (Vaguely, and looking through her 
,lorgnon and spectacles at the manuscript) Oh, have 
we passed that! 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. The next line after the one 
you just read. 

Mrs. Fett. Oh, I see now where we are! The 
next line after that is, “You've all been listening to 
a lot of damned, cheap gossip.” 


(Mrs. Pampinetyi and HossEFrosse together.) 


Mrs. PAmpINneLti. That’s it. 

HossEFrrosseE. (Zo Mrs. Pamprnetit) That 
certainly is my Jonah line. 

Mrs. PampineLyti. You've all been _list 
(SPINDLER goes around to the right and sits on the 
piano-stool, looking near-sightedly at the music.) 

HossEFrosseE. (Turning to FLORENCE, and assum- 
ing his character again) You've all been listening 
to a lot of damned, cheap gossip! (He starts to 
cross toward the left, passing between the piano and 
the table, but Mrs. PAMPINELLI ts right in his way 
again, so he is obliged to stop short and wait.) 

FioreNceE. Which should show you that people 
are talking. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns to see why 
HOssEFROSSE is not picking up his line.) 

Mrs. PaMpPINetti. (Stepping out of his way) I 
beg your pardon. (She circles down at the left of 
the table again.) 

HosseFrosse. (Continuing over toward the man- 
telpiece) My iault. One or two old women, per- 
ha 


FLorENceE. Will it confine itself to those? 

HossEFrrossE. (Turning at the mantelpiece and 
coming back to the middle of the room) Weil, I 
can’t control that. 


76 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


FLorENcE. Have you tried? 

HosserrosszE. (Whirling upon her, and literally 
shouting) No! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Standing at the right of the 
table below the piano) Excellent. 

HossEFrossE. (Turning and bowing briefly to 
her) Thank you very much. (Resuming the scene 
with FLORENCE.) And I don’t intend to. People 
will always talk; it may as well be at my expense as 
anybody else’s. 

Mrs. PaAMPINELLI. (Leaning toward him across 
the table, and speaking with poisonous sweetness ) 
Anybody’s else, dear. 

HosseEFrossE. Beg pardon? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Would you say anybody’s 
else ; it sounds better. 

HosseFrrossE. (Turning back again to Ftor- 
ENCE) It may as well be at my expense as anybody 
else’s. (Mr. SpiInpDLEr’s elbow slips off the piano 
onto the keyboard, striking a perfectly villainous 
chord, and causing everybody to turn and look in 
that direction.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Spindler, please. 

SPINDLER. (Adjusting his goggles, which have 
been slightly dislodged by the incident) Ym sorry. 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns back to HOSSEFROSSE.) 
Never mind, Mr. Hossefrosse, it will come. 

FLorENcE. Your position can’t afford it. 

HossEFrossE. (Taking a step toward the right) 
I’ve given them nothing to talk about. 

FioreNcE. No? (He stops abruptly and turns 
and looks at her.) 

HossEFrossE. What? (He takes a couple of steps 
toward her.) 

Fiorence. (Rising) Please, Clyde! (She 
crosses in front of the table at the left and goes 
toward him. Mrs. Ritter gets up from the parti- 
tion-seat and comes down to the table at the right, 


FS a 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 4 


below the piano.) You're not talking to your office- 

boy. (Mrs. Ritter picks up the little chair from 

the left of the table and starts back again toward the 

center door.) Let us get to the point. 
HossEFrrossE. Very well. 


(Mrs. RITTER and HossEFrosseE together.) 


Mrs. Ritter. Excuse me, Florence. (FLORENCE 
bows and smiles.) And you, too, Mr. Hossefrosse. 

HosseFrossE. What brought you here tonight? 
(He turns to see the cause of the movement behind 
him.) Don’t mention it. (Mrs. Ritter places the 
chair in front of the partition where she has been 
sitting, then crosses to the piano and gets her sewing- 
basket, returning with it to the chair and sitting 
down to sew.) 

FLorENcE. Not to quarrel with you, for one 
thing. 

HossEFrossE. You wanted to embarrass Mrs. 
Rush, that was it, wasn’t it? : 

FiLoreNcE. Not at all—you misunderstood me; 
I said, “I wanted to meet Mrs. Rush.” (TEppy 
comes in through the center door from the right hall- 
way and sits down on the partition-seat at the right. 
Tenby is a frail little wisp of a youth around twenty, 
an dinner clothes. He has big eyes and good teeth, 
and laughs on the slightest provocation. His fore- 
head is defectively high, and his thin hair is plas- 
tered back and brilliantined. His type ts always to 
be found draped upon the banisters or across the 
pianos in the houses of the richa kind of social 
annoyance, created by wealthy connections and the 
usual lack of available men.) 

HosserrosseE. What did you want to meet her 
for? (TwILLerR steps through the center door from 
the right hallway and whispers something to Mrs. 
Ritter. She answers him, and he steps out into the 


78 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


hallway and fills himself out a glass of claret from 
the bowl, then goes up and sits on the landing of the 
stairway and watches the rehearsal.) 

FLorENCE. Why, I thought that we three might— 
reason together. (He holds her eye for a second, 
then turns away, and reaches in his various pockets 
for his cigarettes)—concerning our respective fu- 
tures. 

HossEFrossE. (Jn a lowered tone, to Mrs. Pamu- 
PINELLI) Forgot my cigarettes. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Never mind, I only want lines. 
Go on, Florence. (HossEFROSSE takes an imaginary 
cigarette from an imaginary case, replaces the case, 
taps the cigarette on the back of his hand, puts tt in 
his mouth, strikes an imaginary match on his shoe, 
and lights the cigarette.) 

FLorENCE. I’ve deferred the discussion for a long 
time, but it may as well be today as tomorrow. 

HossEFrossE. Your plan didn’t work out very 
well, did it? 

FLoRENCE. Oh, yes, very well indeed; although 
hardly as I had anticipated; thanks to her husband 
and your lies. (He blows out the imaginary match 
and tosses it onto the floor at the right; then snaps 
his head around and glares at FLORENCE. Mkrs. 
PAMPINELLI glances down onto the floor, as though 
to assure herself that Mr. HossEFrossE hasn't really 
thrown a lighted match onto the carpet.) You've 
evidently told this boy here that Mrs. Rush is your 
wife. 

HosseErrosseE. I’ve told him nothing of the kind! 
(He starts to cross again to the right, but Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI is again right in his pathway, standing in 
front of the table below the piano.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Stepping below him, and go- 
ing a step or two nearer FLORENCE) { beg your par- 
don. 

HosseFrossE. I beg your pardon. (He continues 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 79 


over to the table below the window at the right and 
stands there, pretending to smoke.) 

FLorENcE. Then you’ve allowed him to think so. 

HossEFrossE. (Looking straight ahead) That’s 
business. 

Fiorence. Perhaps it is. It has at least allowed 
you to be present at the passing of Mrs. Rush. (She 
turns and goes toward the back. Mrs. Ritter calls 
to her and they start discussing the hang of Fior- 
ENCE’S Skirt.) 

HosseFrossE. (Whirling around) You are de- 
liberately misinterpreting this situation! (He starts 
to move across toward her, passing between the piano 
and table.) Yes, you are! It’s perfectly ridiculous 
that a physician cannot take a woman patient with- 
out being subjected to the whisperings of a lot of 
vulgar scandal-mongers! (NELLY FELL goes into 
violent laughter at something RiTTER has just fin- 
ished telling her. FLORENCE and Mrs. RITTER con- 
tinue their discussion of the dress, and Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI tries by dint of gesturing to attract FLor- 
ENCE’S aitention.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Florence, dear, please. 

Frorence. (Turning suddenly, and continuing 
her lines) Oh, I beg your pardon! (She moves 
slowly toward the mantelpiece.) This is not a ro- 
mantic age, Clyde. 

HossErrossE. Mrs. Rush is a patient of mine! 

FiorENcE. (Moving down to the left toward 
Ritter and Mrs. Fett) She may have been origin- 
ally. (Mrs. FELL bursts out afresh over something 
else that RITTER whispers.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Flicking her finger at NELLY) 
Sh-sh, Nelly! 

Mrs. Feri. (To FLORENCE, who ts standing look- 
ing at her) I beg your pardon. 

HossErross£. (Standing in the middle of the 
room) She is now! 


80 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


FLoRENCE. (Resting one hand on the armchair ) 
I’m not disputing it. (He turns away, and stands at 
the left of the table below the piano.) But she must 
have a very persistent malady. 

Mrs. FELL. Just one minute, Flossie—one min- 
(pies 

FLorENcE. That hasn’t responded to a treatment 
of more than six years 

Mrs. Fett. Flossie, Flossie, Flossie! (FLor- 
ENCE stops and looks at her.) Just a minute. (She 
looks sharply at her manuscript.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What is the matter, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought 
she’d omitted a line. (To FLoRENcE) I beg your 
pardon. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Go on, Florence. (RITTER 
says something to NELLY and she hits him with the 
manuscript. ) 

FLorENCE. Not to speak of the innumerable 
changes of air that she’s enjoyed—(Mrs. Pamprn- 
ELLI, standing over at the right below the piano, takes 
quite a little coughing spell, and Mrs. RITTER 
promptly gets up and goes to the punch-bowl to fill 
her out a glass of punch)—at your expense; and 
under your personal escort. (HossEFRossE looks 
over at her. She raises her hand understandingly, 
and starts slowly across in front of the table toward 
him.) I have the day and date of the majority of 
them. So, you see, your chivalry is a bit trying, un- 
der the circumstances. (He looks straight ahead 
and tries to look sullen and defeated.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Up in the center door, holding 
aloft a glass of punch) Betty! 

FLorENCE. But I haven’t come here to reproach 
you or to plead for your return. Not atall. I think 
you love this woman. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Coming a little further forward ) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 81 


Betty! (Mrs. PamMPpinetii has another coughing 
spell.) 

FLoRENCE. And in that case, I want to offer you 
your freedom 

Mrs. Pampinetyi. Careful, now, children. 
(Mrs. Ritter comes forward to the table at the left 
and tries to attract Mrs. PAMPINELLI’s attention to 
the glass of punch.) ‘ 

Fiorence. If you want it. 

Mrs. PamPINELLI. (Holding up her forefinger ) 
One, two, three. 

HossEFrossE. (Snapping his head around and 
shouting at FLoRENCE). Well, I don’t want it! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Good! 

HossEFrosseE. And I see absolutely no occasion 
for any such talk. (Mrs. Fett drops her bag and 
reaches for it.) 

FLorENcE. You are probably more broad-minded 
than I. (NELLY FELL utters a piercing little shriek, 
having almost fallen off the chatr in reaching to pick 
up her bag. Everyone turns and looks, and TEppy 
laughs, as usual.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELL. What’s the matter, Nelly? 

Mrs. FELL. (Straightening up, with RITTER’s as- 
sistance, and laughing) I nearly fell off the chair. 
(Mrs. Ritter laughs and returns to the center door 
and stands.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Go on, Florence. 

Fiorence. And, really, I don’t think your free- 
dom would be a very good thing for you. You have 
a form of respectability that requires a certain an- 
chorage in the conventions. But unless you can 
reconcile yourself in the future to a more literal 
observance of those conventions, I shall be obliged 
to insist that you take your freedom. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Look at her, Mr. Hossefrosse. 

Hosserrosse. Beg pardon? 


82 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a touch of impatience) 
Look at her! (She begins to cough again.) 

HosserrossE. Oh, yes, yes! (He turns and 
glares at FLORENCE, who is standing just a couple 
of feet away from him.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Holding the glass of punch aloft 
again) Betty! 

FLoreNnce. I have a couple of growing boys—— 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI passes right up between Fior- 
ENCE and HossErrossE to Mrs. Ritter, and takes 
the glass of claret)—who are beginning to ask me 
questions which I find too difficult to answer: and I 
will neither lie to them—nor allow them to pity me. 

HossEFrossE. What do you want me to do? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Handing the claret-glass 
back to PauLta, who goes to the bowl and refills it, 
and the notebook and pencil to TEppy.) Just a mo- 
ment. (She turns and comes forward in the middle 
of the room. FLORENCE turns and moves over to 
the table at the left, and HOSSEFROSSE remains stand- 
ing at the table at the right.) Just one moment. 
Listen, Florence dear. (She uses her handkerchief, 
then stuffs it into the bosom of her dress.) 1 want 
you, if you can, to make just a little bit more of that 
last line. - Within the limits of the characterization, 
of course; but if you can feel it, P'd like you to give 
me just the barest suggestion of a tear. Not too 
much; but just enough to show that,—under all her 
courage—and her threatening, she is still a woman— 
and a mother. You see what I mean, dear? 

FioreNce. More emotion. 

Mrs. PAmpINELLI. In that last line. You are 
doing splendidly, darling—(Turning to Hosse- 
FROSSE)—both of you; (He acknowledges his excel- 
lence with a short bow)—but I have always felt that 
that last line—was really the big moment—of the 
play. It seems to me—(She toys with her necklace, 
narrows her eyes and looks away off )—that it is there 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 83 


—that she makes her big plea, for her boys, for her 
home,—for every woman’s home. And even though 
that plea 7s made in the form of a threat,—somehow 
or other—I seem to hear her saying, sub-vocally, of 
course, “In God’s name, don’t make it necessary for 
me to do this thing!” (She concludes this speech 
rather dramatically, her arms outstretched. Mr. 
SPINDLER, at this point, engaged in a too curious 
examination of the keyboard, accidentally touches 
D flat above high C. Everybody turns and looks at 
him, but his consciousness of guilt does not permit 
of his meeting their eyes, so he remains bent over 
the keyboard in precisely the attitude he was in when 
he struck the note.) 

Mrs. Fett. Oh, go away from that piano, Mr. 
Spindler! (Mrs. Ritter comes forward at the left 
with a dish of cakes and a glass of claret.) 

Mrs. PampPIneLii. (Withdrawing her eyes with- 
ertngly from SPINDLER and turning back to FLor- 
ENCE) Do you see what I mean, dear? 

Frorence. I think Ido. Do you want me to go 
back ? 

Mrs. Pampinetti. No, that’s quite all right. 
We'll take it right from Mr. Hossefrosse’s line. 
(She turns toward HosserrosseE. And Mrs. RITTER 
takes advantage of the circumstance to offer FiLor- 
ENCE a cake; which, of course, ts declined with 
thanks. Then she turns to Mrs. PAMPINELLI and 
waits till the lady has finished directing Hossk- 
FROSSE.) ‘What do you want me to do?” (Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI turns back, to be confronted with the 
cakes and claret; and she takes both. Then she and 
PauLa move back toward the center door.) 

HosserrosseE. (Clearing his throat) What do 
you warfit me to do? (Pauta gives a shriek of 
laughter, at something Mrs. PAMPINELLI whispers 
to her. Then Pavuta goes out through the center 
door and offers Twitter, who is still sitting half- 


84 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


way up the stairs, some cake, which he accepts, and 
then Teppy, who declines, and finally, after taking 
another one herself, sets the plate down on the hall- 
way table and resumes her chatr up at the left; while 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI, cake and claret in hand, wanders 
forward at the right, passing over between the piano 
and the table below it.) 

FLorENcE. I’ve already told you. 

Hosserrosse. Then I suppose I’m simply to de- 
cline all women patients in the future—(She makes 
a little sound of amusement )—or else submit them 
for general approval. (He now presses the imagin- 
ary fire out of the cigarette on the wmagmary tray 
on the table.) 

FLorENCE. Stick to your guns, Clyde. 

HossEFrossE. That’s the only thing I see to do. 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI stands over at the right watch- 
ing the scene, and eating and drinking.) 

FLorENcE. Your tenacity is commendable, but 
it’s a lost cause. (Looking at him steadily.) I ap- 
preciate your embarrassment 

HossEFrossE. (Turning to her, thrusting his 
hands into his coat-pockets, tilting his chin, and look- 
ing at her with an absurdly perky expression.) I’m 
not embarrassed. 

FLoRENCE. Desolation, then. 

HossEFrossE. (Snapping his fingers at her) Ha! 
(He swings rather jauntily across and up toward the 
mantelpiece.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. More nonchalance in the cross, 
Mr. Hossefrosse. 

HosserrosseE. (Turning to her suddenly) Me? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. More savoir faire, as we say 
in French. (She illustrates the idea with a kind of 
floating gesture of the hand.) 

HossEFrosseE. I see. (He continues over to the 
left and down toward RittER and Mrs. FELL, en- 
deavoring to execute Mrs. PAMPINELLI’s idea by 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 85 


raising his shoulders, stiffening his arms, throwing 
his head back and swinging his legs, as he walks. 
NELLY FELL is whispering something to RITTER be- 
hind her fan, so that, when HossEFRossE reaches 
them, he ts obliged to touch RitTER on the shoulder 
and suggest with a nod and a smile that the exigen- 
cies of the play require that he shall sit where Rit- 
TER is_siiting. So RITTER jumps up and tiptoes 
across in front of the table and up to the piano, where 
he stands leaning—and watching—particularly Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI. ) 

FLorRENCE. (Moving to the table below the piano) 
But I shall be magnanimous; having loved and lost 
myself. So that, really, it may not be nearly so diffi- 
cult as you imagine. 

HossEFrossE. (Sitting on the chair vacated by 
Ritter) Well, I can’t say that I relish the prospect, 
with any such misunderstanding as this between us. 

FLoRENCE. (Crossing to the table at the left) 
It’s the portion of half the world, Clyde. (Twitter 
gets up from the stairs and comes down into the 
right hallway, where he stands watching.) 

HosseFrosseE. (Trying to look sullen, by resting 
one elbow on his knee and hunching his shoulders) 
It certainly isn’t a very inviting one. (NELLY FELL 
starts to whisper something in his ear.) 

FLoRENCE. But it has its compensations. (Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI, having finished her cake and claret, 
sets the empty glass down on the table below the 
piano and uses her handkerchief.) You'll have your 
memories, and I shall have the wisdom of disillu- 
sionment—(The telephone-bell rings, up in the left 
hallway. Mrs. RITTER jumps up, places her sew- 
ing-basket on the chair, and, touching her hair, comes 
forward quickly at the right to the table below the 
piano )—as well as the consciousness of lots of com- 

ny. 
ies. Ritter. (Speaking directly to Mrs. Pam- 


86 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


PINELLI) Is that my cue? (FLORENCE stops and 
turns and laoks at her.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Which cue, dear? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Taking a step toward FLORENCE, 
and with a little questioning, bewildered gesture), 
The telephone is my cue, isn’t it? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a touch of impatience ) 
No, darling, you’re not on in this scene at all. Go 
on, Florence. (Mrs. Ritter puts her hand to her 
cheek and looks from one to the other in puazled em- 
barrassment. ) 

FLorENCE. (Turning and resuming her lines to 
HossEFrossE, who, by this time, is deep in conver- 
sation with Mrs. Fert) For there are a million 
women exactly like me. (Mrs. RITTER bursts out 
laughing. So does TEppy. TwiILter reaches over 
the partition and flips TEDpy on the head with lis 
handkerchief. JENNY appears in the left hallway 
to answer the telephone.) 


(Mrs. RitTER and FLORENCE together.) 


Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to Mrs. PAMPINELL1) 
Oh, I beg your pardon! (She leans across the table 
explaining to Mrs. PAMPINELLI, who tries politely 
to silence her by suggestion that the scene is im 
progress.) I thought that was my cue. 

FLoRENCE. Secondary women. (She moves 
around above the table and stands just above HossE- 
FROSSE.) So don’t look so tragic; you haven’t lost 
anything but a lot of time. 

Jenny. (Ai the telephone) Hello? 


(Mrs. Ritter, Florence and Mrs. Fett together.) 
Mrs. Ritter. I was thinking of something else, 


you know, and when I heard the telephone, I thought 
it was for me. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 87 


FLoreNce. And that’s always lost when it’s spent 
on things that are insusceptible of conclusion. 

Mrs. Fett. (Bursting into a perfect shriek of 
laughter at something HossErrossE has just finished 
telling her, and pushing him away from her.) Hux- 
ley Hossefrosse, you are perfectly dreadful! (He 
laughs, too, and attempts to tell her something else, 
but she turns away and waves him aside.) No, no, 
no. 
Mrs. PampiInetii. No, dear, that is your own 
telephone. 

Jenny. (At the telephone still) Just a minute. 
(Mrs. Ritter turns toward the back of the room.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, so it is! (Directly to Rit- 
TER) I knew I had one telephone cue. (She goes 
laughing through the center door and on out into the 
right hallway.) 

Jenny. (Trying to attract Rirrer’s attention) 
Mr. Ritter! (Bui Ritter ts absorbed in watching 
HOsSEFROSSE. FLORENCE stands waiting for HossE- 
FROSSE and NELLY to stop laughing, but as it doesn’t 
look as though they will ever stop, she gives HossE- 
FROSSE a little dig in the shoulder with her finger. 
He straightens up abruptly.) 

FLorENCE. (Prompting him) I’ve lost her. 

Jenny. Mr. Ritter! 

Hosserrosse. I’ve lost her. 

FiorENcE. That was inevitable in your case, 
Clyde; you have a conventional soul. (JENNY asks 
TEDDY in pantomime to attract RiTTER’s attention.) 

HosseErrosse. (Ina tone intended to express abys- 
mal despair) I’ve lost you. (RITTER bursts out 
laughing. TeEppy reaches out and indicates that he 
is wanted on the telephone. JENNY holds the tele- 
phone up, and he steps quickly out into the hallway 
to take it from her.) 

FLORENCE. That was incidental, eh? 


88 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


HossEFROSSE. But it seems to me there should be 
some other way. 

FLorENCE. (Moving to the right, above the table) 
There is, my dear boy—for lots of people 

RitTER. (At the telephone) Hello? (Jenny 
goes out.) 

FLORENCE. But not for you. 

RitTEr. Yes. 

FLorRENCE. You're too respectable—physically, I 
mean. (She laughs a little, and stands above the 
table looking at him.) 

Ritter. Well, wait a minute. Ill talk to you up- 
stairs. (He sets the telephone down and starts to- 
ward the right to go upstairs. As he passes the cen- 
ter door he speaks to TEDDY, who is still sitting just 
inside the center door on the right partition-seat.) 
Hang that up when I get on, will you, Teddy? 
(TEDDY jumps up and goes out to the telephone, and 
holds it, watting till RiTTER gets on the extension 
upstairs.) 

Fiorence. And Mrs. Rush has what it appears to 
me to be a rather—primitive husband—(HosseE- 
FROSSE gives her a narrow look )—and you have a 
very modern wife. So be wise, Clyde; you know 
what usually happens to him who “loves the danger.” 
(There is a loud knock at the right door. HossE- 
FROSSE jumps to his feet and stands looking fearfully 
toward it. FLORENCE assumes all the dignity at her 
command, drawing herself up, placing her right 
hand upon her throat, her left on her hip, and wait- 
ing,—the proud but outraged wife. Mrs. Pampi- 
NELLI holds up both hands and looks tn the direction 
of the door, to impress everybody with the dramatic 
value of the situation. TEppy hangs up the receiver 
and stands watching her. NELLY FELL straightens 
up briskly and sits watching the door, in expectant 
attention. Then Mrs. PAMPINELLI makes a gesture 
to FLORENCE to go on with her lines.) Go into your 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 89 


office. I’ll talk to this woman. (HOossEFROSSE drops 
his head and shoulders and slinks across in front of 
the table, a beaten man. He continues up to the cen- 
ter door and out, into the right hallway. The knock 
is repeated at the right door. Mrs. PAMPINELLI mo- 
tions to TEppy that that is his cue to open the door. 
He comes through the center door and crosses above 
the piano to the right door, Mrs. PAMPINELLI at the 
same time moving over to the armchair at the right 
and enshrining herself. TEppy opens the door; and 
Mrs. RITTER swishes in self-consciously. NELLY 
Fett and Mr. Twitter give a litile ripple of ap- 
plause, but Mrs. PAMPINELLI holds one finger up 
toward Netty and shushes her. Mrs. RITTER 1s 
wearing a rather bizgarre-looking hat, set at some- 
thing of a challenging angle, and as she comes for- 
ward at the right of the piano, she bursts into a self- 
conscious giggle. But Mrs. PAMPINELLI reproves 
her with a look. So she controls herself and crosses 
below the piano, TEppy, simultaneously, crossing 
above the piano. She stops at the corner of the piano 
and rests her left hand upon it. Then she places 
her right hand upon her hip, and, tilting her head 
back, looks at TEDpy, who has stopped directly above 
her. RuTTER appears on the stairway, and moves 
down a step or two, watching his wife, narrowly.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Flipping her left hand at TEppy, 
in an attempt to give a fly impression) Hello, kid. 

Teppy. Hello, Mrs. Arlington. (Mrs. RITTER 
swishes down toward the left, shaking her head from 
side to side and holding her arms akimbo. She turns 
around to her left, gives FLORENCE a look supposed 
to be a very contemptuous look, and stands in the 
middle of the room again, facing TEppy.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Speaking directly to TEppy) Is 
my sweetie in? (RITTER moves slowly down to the 
landing of the stairs, watching his wife as though 
she were some baffling phenomenon.) 


90 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


TEppy. No, ma’m, he ain’t. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Drawing her shoulders up, and 
speaking in a high, unnatural key) What! 

Treppy. He went about six o’clock. 

Mrs. Ritter. Why, I had an appointment with 
am! 

Treppy. He might be back, maybe. 

Mrs. Ritter. But I can’t wait unless I’m certain 
that he’s coming back. 

TEppy. He was expecting you. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Still shaking her head and trying 
generally to appear bold) Yes, I know he was. 
(Turning to the table at the left, back of which Fior- 
ENCE is standing) I suppose Id better leave a note 
for him. (She indicates the table with a waving ges- 
ture of her left hand.) 

Teppy. You'll find that green one is the best pen. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Stepping to the table) Thanks. 
(She looks at FLORENCE, who gives her a withering 
look over her right shoulder and turns away to the 
mantelpiece at the left. Then Mrs. Rttrer gives her 
idea of a scornful laugh.) Ha! Ha! Ha! 

Ritter. (Sweeping his hand across his brow, 
groaning, and falling down the stairs, into the right 
hallway) Oh, my god! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Seeing him fall, and jump- 
ing up) Oh, my dear! (Everybody turns.) 

Twitter. (Trying to catch him) Hold it! 
(SPINDLER rushes past Mrs. PAMPINELLI and out 
the center door into the right hallway. TEDpy jumps 
into a@ kneeling position on the right partition-seat 
and looks over the partition. FLORENCE and Mrs. 
FELL rush up to the center door and try to see what's 
going on. NELLY dodging from one side of FLor- 
ENCE to the other, and peering through her lorgnon. ) 
Are you hurt, old man? 

HosserrossE. (Handing his cane and gloves to 
SPINDLER) Hold those, please. (SPINDLER takes 


THE TORCH-BEARERS gl 


them, and HossEFROSSE prepares to assist TWILLER 
to lift RitTER from the floor.) 

Twitter. Get some water, somebody! (SpPrnp- 
LER rushes out the left hallway. Mrs, PAMPINELLI 
sweeps up from below the table at the right to the 
center door.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Bewildered, in the middle of the 
room, as Mrs. PAMPINELLI, passes her) What is 
it, Betty? 

Mrs. PamprInetii. Now, don’t get excited, Paula. 
(Mrs. Ritter steps frantically across to the piano 
and turns, leaning against it, looking wide-eyed at 
NELLY FELL.) 

HosstrrosseE. Lift up his head. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Looking eagerly out into the 
right hallway) Is he hurt, boys? 

Twitter. I want to get him under the arms. 
(They lift RitTER onto a bench in the hallway. 
NELty FELL turns away from the center door with 
an exclamation of distress.) 

HosseFrosseE. We'd better lay him right here. 

Mrs. Ritter. Is it Fred, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fetxt. I don’t know, dear. 


(Mrs. PaMpPINeLLi and Mrs. FEtt together.) 


Mrs. PamprInetyi. (Addressing HOSSEFROSSE and 
Twitter) You can lay him right here, boys. I 
think it’ll be as good as any. 

Mrs. Fett. What is it, Florence? Did Mr. Rit- 
ter fall downstairs? 

Fiorence. I think so. 

Mrs. Fett. (Covering her eyes and swaying) 
Oh, dear child, don’t! (FLoRENcE puts her arm 
around her and guides her toward the armchas at 
the left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Give me one of those pillows, 
Teddy. (He hands her a pillow from the partition- 
seat where he’s kneeling.) 


92 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Fety. (Sinking into the armchair at the 
left) Betty, I think I’m going to faint! 

Mrs. PAMPINELL. (Turning to her) Sit down, 
dear. Ill get you some water. (Calling and beck- 
oning out into the left hallway) Jenny dear! come 
here, please! 

HosseEFrossE. (Rushing across from the right to 
the left hallway) I think I’d better call Dr. Went- 
worth. (He snatches up the telephone and works 
the hook violently.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes, I would. (She turns 
around to her left and stands looking questioningly 
at Mrs. Ritter.) Go on with your lines, Paula. 

Mrs. Ritter. Well, is he dead, Betty? 

Mrs. Pamprinetyi. (With a definite litile gesture 
of her right hand) Never mind! (The curtain com- 
mences to descend, and she sweeps forward.) We 
will go right on from where Mr. Ritter fell down- 
stairs. 


THE CURTAIN IS DOWN 
(As it rises again for the picture) 


HossErrossE. (At the telephone) Lansdowne 8, 
please,—right away! (SPINDLER rushes in from the 
left hallway carrying a glass of water, and followed 
immediately by JENNY. TWILLER ts ministering to 
Ritter. Mrs. PAMPINELLI ts standing in the middle 
of the room, facing the center door, and holding up 
both her hands, as a signal to the various artists that 
the rehearsal is about to be resumed; so they quickly 
step to the various positions in which they respect- 
ively were when Mr. RITTER fell.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Addressing TEppy) Yes, I know 
he was. I spose I’d better leave a note for him. 


END OF THE ACT 


ACT II 


Note.—The setting for this act consists simply of 
three wings set in the middle of the stage about four 
feet from the footlights, and parallel to the foot- 
lights, the wing in the middle, a plain one, and the 
one on either side of it, a door-wing. These doors 
open toward the footlights, and the one on the right 
is hinged. to the right, and the one on the left, to the 
left. From these door-wings, regular plain wings 
oblique off to the back wall; and the whole thing 
is lashed and stage-screwed after the fashion of 
regulation stage-setting. As the doors in the back 
flat open, there can be had a glimpse of footlights, 
and just beyond them, a neutral drop, in grayish 
black, to represent an auditorium. Between the back 
flat and the stage footlights (as distinguished from 
the regular footlights) the miniature stage is set to 
represent the interior of a doctor’s waiting-room. 
Through the door at the right can be seen a desk 
and revolving chair, and a couple of plain chairs 
against the wall; and through the left door, a table, 
littered with magazines, a cabinet, a revolving book- 
case and two more chairs. There is a bright rug on 
the floor. Between the back flat and the regular 
footlights, over toward the left, there is a stage-screw 
sticking right up owt of the floor; and between the 
two doors there is a plain chair with its back against 
the flat. Over the door on the right there is a row 
of six electric bulbs with a cord and button depend- 
ing from it; and further right, halfway back, there 
is a wood-wing, set as though it were the exterior 


93 


94 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


backing for a window in the miniature set. Over 
at the left, away back, fastened about head-high 
against the back wall, there is a small switchboard- 
arrangement. Just below this there is an old chair, 
without a back, with a newspaper lying upon it. 


x, 


ACT Ii 


A woaliz is being played somewhere off at the righ. 


FLORENCE and Mrs. Ritter are standing in the 
middle of the stage, facing the flats, talking. 
FLORENCE is wearing a fawn-colored, one-piece 
coat-dress, buttoned high at the throat, military 
fashion, and a toque made of wine-colored vel- 
vet leaves. She wears fawn-colored slippers 
and stockings, and carries a fitch muff. Mrs. 
RITTER is wearing a very rich-looking coat-suit 
in blue serge, trimmed at the collar and cuffs 
with white monkey-fur. Her hat is dark-blue 
felt, quite large, with a bird of paradise set at a 
decidedly rakish tilt. Her slippers and stock- 
ings are black, and she carries an umbrella. 
Over at the extreme left, and forward, Mrs. 
FELL ts hearing Mr. Twitter his lines from the 
manuscript. Mrs. FELL is gowned in a. brilliant 
creation of silver-cloth trimmed with sea-green 
satin. There are numerous strings of crystal 
beads hanging in the front from the waist to the 
botiom of the skirt, and she has a spreading 
poinsettia in scarlet velvet fastened at her waist. 
There is a long, fish-tail train to the gown, lined 
with the green satin, and she has a heavy rope 
of pearls and sea-green beads around her neck, 
from which her lorgnon depends. There are 
diamonds in her hair, diamonds galore upon her 
arms and hands, and she’s wearing her diamond 
dog-collar. Her slippers and stockings are of 
pale green. Mr. Twitter has on a double- 


195 


96 


THE TORCH-BEARERS . 


breasted blue-serge suit, a black derby, black 
shoes and fawn-colored spats, and a perfectly 
villainous-looking black mustache, absurdly 
large, and obviously artificial. He stands lean- 
ing upon a cane, reciting his lines to Mrs. FELL. 
Mr. SPINDLER, 1m a dinner-suit, is trying des- 
perately to unfasten the stage-screw from the 
floor at the left, while Mr. HossEFRosse, wear- 
ing a light business-suit, a light, soft hat, tan 
shoes and spats, and carrying a cane and gloves, 
is pacing back and forth between the left door 
and the extreme left, reciting his lines to him- 
self. He is atrociously made up, with the car- 
mine smeared heavily on his cheek-bones. The 
stage manager, in a tan jumper and army shirt, 
dirty white running-pumps, a battered old cap 
adorned with many tobacco-tags, and carrying 
a hammer, wanders on from the right and 
crosses the stage, passing below FLORENCE and 
Mrs. RITTER, who turn and look at him curi- 
ously, and continues on up at the left to the 
switch-board, where he picks up the newspaper 
from the broken chair, and, after lighting his 
pipe, sits down to read. He is apparently dis- 
gusted with the world and utterly oblivious of 
his surroundings. The waltzg-music stops, and 
Mr. HossEFrossE comes to a halt in his pacing, 
right outside the left door. It 1s imstantly flung 
open, knocking him toward the left, and disar- 
ranging his hat, and Mrs. PAMPINELLI sweeps 
out—in a princess-gown of ruby-colored velvet, 
with a long train, and heavily trimmed about the 
upper part of the bodice with ornaments of ruby- 
colored beads. Her shoulders and arms are bare, 
and she has a small string of rubies about her 
throat ;—a bracelet and several rings of rubies ; 
as well as a high Spanish comb studded with 
rubies. Her slippers are of black velvet. Mrs. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 97 


RITTER gives a little cry as Mr. HossEFRossE is 
struck by the door. 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Holding the door ajar) Oh, 
did I hit you, Mr. Hossefrosse! I’m so sorry. 

HossErrosse. (Settling his hat) That’s all right. 

Mrs. PAmpPINELLI. (To the ladies) The setting 
looks splendid, girls! (Crossing quickly below 
HossEFROSSE toward the left.) Will you come here 
for a moment, Mr. Spindler? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning away to the right) I 
don’t want to see it till I go on. 

FLoRENCE. (As HossEFROSSE comes toward her ) 
You'd better keep away from that door, Mr. Hosse- 
frosse. (She and Mrs. RitTER laugh.) 


(HossEFrossE and Mrs, PAMPINELLI together.) 


Hosserrosse. Yes, I think I had. 

Mrs. Pampinetui. (Up at the left, addressing 
the stage manager) Are you ready, Mr. Stage Man- 
ager? (He continues to read.) 


(HossErrossE and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together. ) 


HosserrosseE. (Brushing his clothes) I don’t 
think a whisk-broom’d be out of place on this stage, 
either. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to SPINDLER, who 
is still occupied with the stage-screw) Mr. Spind- 
ler, will you come here, please? (Turning back to 
the stage manager.) Mr. Stage Manager! (SpPInp- 
LER goes toward her, and HOSSEFROSSE goes through 
the left door.) 

Stace Manacer. (Looking up from his paper, 
very peevishly) Yes? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Are you all ready? 


98 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
(Stace Manacer and Twitter together.) 


Stace Manacer. Yes, sure, I’m all ready. (He 
resumes his newspaper.) 

Twitter. (Turning sharply to SPINDLER, who has 
stopped on his way to Mrs. PAMPINELLI to call Mrs. 
FELL’s attention to the stage-screw, and to warn her 
to be careful of it.) Oh, go away! Can’t you see 
we're busy. ' 

Mrs. Pampineti. Mr. Spindler! 

SPINDLER. (Stepping briskly to her side) Yes, 
ma’m? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Come here, please. (Turning 
to the stage manager) Mr. Stage Manager—(He 
looks up)—this young man will give you the cue 
for the curtain, in case I am not here. 

Stace Manacer. All right. (He resumes his 
newspaper.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning and coming forward 
again, holding her skirt up off the floor) You stand 
right here, Mr. Spindler, and I’ll give you the signal 
when I’m ready. 

SPINDLER. All right. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Hurrying toward the left 
door) Now, is everybody all right? 

FLorRENCE. Yes. 

Mrs. Ritter. I think so. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. How are you, Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Giggling) All night. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Where’s Mr. Hossefrosse? 
(She glances frantically about.) 


(FLoreENcE and Mrs. Ritter together.) 


FiorENcE. He’s just stepped on the stage. 

Mrs. Ritrer. He was here a minute ago. 

Mrs. PAmpineLti. Mr. Hossefrosse, where are 
you? (She opens the left door.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 99 


Mrs. Ritter. (Calling) Mr. Hossefrosse! (He 
opens the right door and comes out.) 
HossEFrosse. Yes? 


(Teppy and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


Teppy. (Sitting at the desk over at the right, in 
the miniature set beyond the flats, to Mrs, PAMPIN- 
ELLI, as she comes through the left door.) There he 
is. Z 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (To TEppy, as she steps into 
the miniature set, through the left door) Where’s 
Mr. Hossefrosse? 


(FLorENcE and Mrs. RITTER together.) 


FiorENcE. (To HosserrossE) Mrs. Pampinelli’s 
looking for you. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Calling) Here he is, Mrs. Pam- 
pinelli! (HossEFROsSE steps quickly to the left door 
and starts in, just as Mrs. PAMPINELLI comes out 
through the right door. FLORENCE steps over ta the 
left door and catches HossErrossE by the arm, and 
pulls him back.) 

Mrs. PaMPINELL. (Coming through the right 
door) Where is he? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Pointing to HossEFrRossE) There 
he is! (She laughs.) 

FLORENCE. (Drawing HosserrossE back) Mrs. 
Pampinelli wants you! 

HosserrossE. (Zo Mrs. PamMpinetyi1) I beg 
your pardon. 

Mrs. Pamprnetyii. Oh, Mr. Hossefrosse! 

Hosserrosse. (Crossing to the right toward her ) 
Yes? 

Mrs. PamMPINELLI. Are you all right? 

HosseErrosseE. I think so, yes. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. How is your make-up? 


100 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


HosseEFrosseE. All right, I think. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Indicating the right door) 
Would you stand here for a moment under this light 
until I see it? 

HossEFrossE. Certainly. (He goes to the right 
door and stands with his back against it. The light 
from the row of electric bulbs over the door shines 
down on his face. Mrs. PAMPINELLI stands off to 
his right, surveying his make-up critically.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Very good. 

HosserrossE. Not too much red? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No, I shouldn’t say so. 

HossEFrossE. (Indicating his right cheek) Up 
here, I mean. 

Mrs. PAmpINELLI. No, I think the contour of 
your face requires it. It heightens the expression. 
(She starts across toward the left.) It’s very good. 
(HossEFROSSE comes over and chats with the ladies 
about his make-up.) Mr. Twiller! (TWwItver turns 
from Mrs. FEL.) 

Twitter. Yes? (Turning back to Mrs. FELL) 
Excuse me, Nelly. 

Mrs. FeLi. Certainly. 

Mrs. PaAMPINELLI. How is your mustache? 

Twitter. (Touching it gingerly) All right, I 
think. 

Mrs. PampineLti. Is it quite secure? 

Twitter. I think so. (Mrs. Ritter, FLORENCE 
and HossEFrRossE turn and look.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Stepping back a step from 
him and looking at the mustache, with her head tilted 
a bit to the left side.) You’ve made it a little smaller, 
haven’t you? 

Twitter. (Touching the left side of his mus- 
tache) I cut it down a bit on this side. 

Mrs. PamPInetti. I thought you had. 

Twitter. I was a little conscious of it. 


- THE TORCH-BEARERS IOI 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well,—I don’t know but that 
it’s better for the characterization. 

Twitter. And how are my eyes? (He turns and 
looks out and away off, widening his eyes as though 
he were having his picture taken. ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (After looking keenly at his 
eyes for a second) Very effective. (She turns 
quickly away toward the right, and TWILLER turns 
back to his left to Mrs. Fett.) Now, is everybody 
ready? (They all smile and nod.) Your gloves and 
cane, Mr. Hossefrosse? 

HossEFrosseE. (Crossing above FLORENCE and 
Mrs. Ritter toward Mrs. PAMPINELLI, extending 
his cane and gloves) Yes. 

Mrs. PamPINELLI. (Turning toward Mrs. FELL) 
Places, Nelly! Get ready, Mr. Spindler! 

SPINDLER. I’m all ready. (Mrs. Fett closes the 
manuscript, excuses herself to TWILLER, and crosses, 
above him, toward the right. He goes back at the 
left and says something to SPINDLER, then comes 
forward again.) 

Mrs. PAmpPINneLLI. (Calling through the left 
door) Are you all right, Teddy? 

Teppy. (Beyond the flats, over at the right) All 
right. (As Mrs. FELL passes above FLORENCE and 
Mrs. Ritter, on her way over to the right, she whis- 
pers something to them which causes a general 
laugh; then she continues on over to the door at the 
right and takes up her official position, as prompt- 
ress.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning and adressing them 
generally) Now, is everybody all right? (They all 
nod.) You both all right, girls? (Mrs. RITTER 
nods.) 

FioreNce. All right. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning around to the left 


to Mr. SPINDLER, and with an authoritative gesture) 


All right, then—take up the curtain! 


‘102 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


SPINDLER. (Waving his hand to the stage man- 
ager) All right, Stage Manager! 

Stace MANAGER. (Getting up, very reluctantly ) 
Are you ready? 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI amd SPINDLER together.) 


Mrs, PAMPINELLI. Yes, all ready. 

SPINDLER. Let her go! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a kind of ceremonious 
flourish of the hand) Take up the curtain! (The 
stage manager tosses his newspaper onto the chair 
and steps out of sight, to the left. There is an anx- 
tous pause. Then Mrs. PAMPINELLI starts violently 
and grabs the knob of the left door.) Oh, wait. one 
moment! (SPINDLER rushes back at the left, whis- 
tling.) 


(FLorence, Mrs. Ritter, Twitter and Hosse- 
FROSSE together, as Mrs. PAMPINELLI pulls open 
the left door.) 


FLorENcCE. Wait a minute! 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, wait! 

Twitter. Hold it! 

HosserrossE. (Grabbing the door and holding it 
open) Not yet! 

Mrs. Ritter. (Calling to the stage manager) 
Just a minute! 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. (Going in through the left 
door) One moment, please! (She vanishes to the 
right, and there is a slight pause, during which the 
curtain, which had been raised four feet, can be seen 
through the door to descend again. They all ex- 
change looks of distress and amused annoyance. 
Then Mrs. PAMPINELLI hurries out through the door 
again.) All right! 

SPINDLER. (Who has come forward at the left) 


- THE TORCH-BEARERS 103 


Is it all right? (HosserrosseE releases the door and 
it closes.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes, it’s all right. (Sprnp- 
LER goes toward the back at the left and she follows 
him halfway.) 

SPINDLER. All right, Mr. Stage Manager! 

Stace Manacer. (Off at the left) Are you 
ready? 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and SPINDLER together.) 


Mrs, PamMPINELLI. Yes, all ready, Mr. Stage 
Manager ! 

SPINDLER. Let her go! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning and coming for- 
ward at the left) Take it up! (She stands just 
to the left of the left door, peering through the flats. 
SPINDLER is farther back at the left, peering also; 
and Mrs. FELL is over at the right door, peering. 
There is a pause. Mr. Hosserrosse takes up his 
position outside the left door, preparatory to making 
his entrance. He settles his clothes generally, and 
clears his throat.) The curtain is going up, Mr. 
Hossefrosse, go on. 

HossEFrosse. Is it up? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes, yes, goon! (He opens 
the door, rather magnificently, and swings in. There 
is a ripple of applause, and the door closes after him; 
and they all try to find a crevice between the flats 
that will afford a glimpse of the stage beyond. The 
stage manager appears from the left carrying a regu- 
lation door-slam, which he brings forward and drops, 
with a bang, just to the left of the left door. They 
all turn and look at him, in resentful astonishment, 
but he simply gives them a look of infinite disdain 
and returns to his chair at the back to read.) 

HosserrosseE. (Beyond the flats) Anybody here, 
David? 


104 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Teppy. (Beyond the flats, over toward the right) 
No, sir. 

HosseFrosseE. (Beyond the flats, moving toward 
the right) No telephones? 

Teppy. No, sir. 

HossEFRossE. (Coming through the right door, 
without his hat) Nothing at all, eh? (Mrs. Rit- 
TER is standing right in front of the door.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Get away from the door, 
Paula! (PauLa jumps to the left. Mrs. FE. takes 
advantage of the crevice caused by the door being 
open, to try to see the audience.) 

Teppy. (Who can be seen through the open door 
standing at the desk) No, sir. 

HossEFrossE. (Leaning over and laying his cane 
and gloves on the chair between the doors) All 
right, sir. (The door begins to swing to behind 
him.) 

Mrs. PampINELLI. Keep that door open, Mr. 
Hossefrosse! (SPINDLER comes forward at the left 
to see what's the matter. HossEFrosse thrusts his 
foot back and kicks the door open.) 

HosserrossE. And I think that will do very nicely 
for this day. (The door begins slowly to swing to 
again.) 

Mrs. Pampinetyt. There it goes again, Mr. 
Hossefrosse! 

HosseFrossE. It won’t stay open! (Mrs. FELL 
looks around the door.) 

Mrs. PAmpPpiINeLLI. Take hold of that door, 
Nelly! (NELLY puts one foot around it, and stands 
looking at her manuscript. SPINDLER goes back at 
the left and looks through the wings again, at the 
stage.) 

Hosserrosse. (In a frantic whisper) Telephone! 

Mrs. Fett. Telephone, somebody ! 

HosseEFrossE. Good Lord! 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 105 


FiorENcE. Mr. Spindler, telephone! (SPINDLER 


_ rushes forward at the left.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Where is he? 

SPINDLER. What? 

FiLorENcE. The telephone-bell! 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. Where’s your bell? 

SPINDLER. (Pulling the battery-arrangement out 
of his pocket) Was the cue been given? 

Teppy. (Picking up the telephone on the desk be- 
yond the flats) Hello? 

Mrs. PampPINELLI. Ring it! Of course it’s been 
given! (He rings the bell, and HossEFRossE steps 
through the right door and watches TEppy anx- 
tously. ) 

SPINDLER. I didn’t hear it! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Annihilating him with a 
look, and starting over toward the right door) Well, 
why aren’t you over here when your cue’s given and 
then you would hear it! (SpminpDLeErR frails over 
after her.) 

HosseFrossE. (Over his shoulder, to Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI) Shush! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning sharply back to- 
ward the left, and directly to SPINDLER, who ts right 
behind her.) Shush! (She passes below him and 
continues toward the left.) Keep away from that 
door—they’ll see you! (In attempting to keep out 


| of the way of the door, SPINDLER turns sharply and 


trips over the screw of a stage-brace, falling his 
length across the open door. Mrs. RITTER gives a 
little scream, and Mrs. PAMPINELLI whirls round 
and glares at him. He scrambles to his feet, and 
Mrs. Ritter giggles and pulls him to the left, away 
from the door.) 

HossEFrossE. (Standing in the open door, ad- 
dressing Teppy) Mrs. A.? (TeEppy nods, and 
HossEFrossE pretends to pick up an imaginary tele- 
phone from a desk just to the left of the right door.) 


106 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Yes? All right. (He pretends to hang up and set 
the telephone down on the desk again.) You can 
clear out of here now, David, any time you like,— 
Mrs. Arlington is on her way up. 

Teppy. (Rising, and settling the various papers 
on the desk) All right. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Helping Mr. SPINDLER to brush 
off his clothes) Did you hurt yourself, Mr. Spind- 
ler? (Mrs. PAMPINELLI tries to attract SPINDLER’S 
attention to the door-slam.) 

SPINDLER. No. (He hurries over to the door- 
slam at the left and picks it up.) 

HosserrosseE. I'll let you off early Monday. 
(FLORENCE stands anxiously outside the left door.) 

Teppy. Oh, that’s all right. 

HosserrossE. And don’t forget to leave that list 
with the Robinson people on your way down Mon- 
day. 

Teppy. No, sir, I won’t; I have it right here in 
me pocket. (FLORENCE puts her lips against the left 
door and coughs hard. Then she shuffles her feet; 
so does SPINDLER. HossEFROSSE steps through the 
right door and looks over toward the left door.) 

Hosserrosse. (Addressing TEDDY, m a subdued 
tone) Is that someone coming? _ 

Teppy. (Looking toward the loft door) I think 
so. (There ts a slight pause, then Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
makes a decisive movement to SPINDLER and he 
brings the door-slam down with a thunderous bang. 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI starts violently.) 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. That’s too loud, Mr. Spind- 
led! 

SPINDLER. There’s too much wood in it! (He 
starts across to the right.) 

HosseEFrossE. (Stepping down to TEppy’s desk 
and picking up his hat) That can’t be Mrs. Arling- 
ton already. I won’t see anyone else. (He starts 
back toward the door.) Tell them I’ve gone; and 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 107 


don’t let anybody wait. (He takes hold of the door 
as he steps through.) Say you're just locking up the 
office. (He comes through the door and tries to close 
it, but NELLY’s foot is still around it, and she is lost 
im the manuscript. He pulls at the door, but she is 
oblivious.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Nelly! (Sprnprer gives a little 
whistle to attract her attention.) 

Mrs. PAmPiINneLLI. Let go of the door, Nelly! 

Mrs. Fett. (Jumping out of the way, to the 
right) Oh, I beg your pardon! (HossEFROssE 
scowls at her and closes the door. SPINDLER jumps 
to the door and turns a key, which he has in his 
hand, in the lock, then touches the button at the end 
of the cord, extinguishing the row of lights over the 
door, then rushes back toward the left door. Mrs. 
RITTER is right in his way as he rushes back, and 
they dodge each other twice before Mr. SPINDLER 
can get past. When he reaches the left door, he raps 
violently, Mrs, PAMPINELLI directing his activities 
with little nervous gestures. There is a pause; then 
the left door is opened by TEeppy. Mrs, RITTER is 
right in front of it.) 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Standing to the left of the 
door) Get out of the way, Paula! (Mrs. RITTER 
jumps out of the way, to the right, then looks back 
at Mrs. PAMPINELLI and giggles, but Mrs. PaMPI- 
NELLI puts her finger on her lips.) 

FiLorENcE. (Passing through the left door) Good 


evening, son. 


Teppy. (Reaching out and closing the door) 
Good evening. (There is prolonged applause from 
beyond the flats, and everybody, having seen FiLor- 
ENCE safely through the door, rushes to his favorite 
crevice between the wings, or rip in the scenery, to 
see how she is beging received by the audience.) 

‘ paeonee. (Beyond the flats) Isn’t the Doctor 
in! 


108 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Teppy. No, ma’m, he ain’t; he went about six 
o'clock. 

FLorENcE. That’s unfortunate. I wanted to see 
him. (HossEFRossE turns away from the right 
door, where he’s been peeking, and mops his brow; 
then he turns and puts his hat down on the chair.) 

SPINDLER. (Stepping toward him from. the left 
door) How do you feel? 

Hosserrosse. All right; but that door and that 
telephone got me kind of rattled. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Looking over from the ex- 
treme left of the back flat, where she has been peek- 
ing) Shush, boys! (HossEFROSSE turns away and 
tiptoes toward the right, and the others reswme their 
peeking.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning to HossEFROSSE, as he 
passes below her) What’s the matter, Huxley, did 
something go wrong? (Mrs. PAamprIneLti looks 
over again to see who’s talking.) 

Hosserrosse. (Indicating the right door) That 
door kind of got me rattled for a minute. 

Mrs. Fety. I don’t think the audience noticed it. 

Mrs. Pampinetii. Shush! (NELLY consults her 
manuscript, listening at the same time to the dialogue 
beyond the flats, and Mr. HossEFrossE continues to 
the extreme right and forward, trying to make the 
squeak of his new shoes as mandible as possible. 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI puts her ear to the flat and lis- 
tens keenly.) j 

TrEppy. (Faintly, beyond the flats) Why, he al- 
ways asts me to wait whenever he’s expectin’ his 
wife down-town. (SPINDLER suddenly turns from 
the wing where he has been peeking, and, breaking 
into quite a jaunty little whistle, starts across toward 
the left; but Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns abruptly and 
glares him into silence. He clasps his hand over his 
mouth and apologizes with an obsequious little ges- 
ture.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 109 


FLORENCE. (Beyond the flats) I see. And he 
was expecting her this evening? 

Teppy. Yes, ma’m. 

Fiorence. Do you know her? (SPINDLER trips 
and almost falls over the stage-screw in the floor at 
the left. TwiLitEr, who has been standing down at 
the extreme left, makes an impatient move and goes 
up toward the back.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, Mr. Spindler, for pity’s 
sake do keep still for one moment! 

SPINDLER. (Squatting down and atiempting to 
remove the screw) We'd better get this thing out 
of here, before somebody gets hurt. 

Mrs. PamMpINELLI. Now, don’t take that out of 
there, Mr. Spindler! You might loosen the scen- 
ery. 
SPINDLER. This isn’t connected with the scenery. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You don’t know whether it is 
or not! Leave it where it is. 

SPINDLER. (Getting up and moving over toward 
the right) Somebody’s going to get their neck 
broken, the first thing you know. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Very well, then, that will be 
their misfortune! We've simply got to be careful, 
that’s all. Get ready, Paula. (Mrs. Ritter giggles 
and takes up her position outside the left door.) 

Mrs. Fett. (As SPINDLER comes toward her) 
What’s the matter, Mr. Spindler? 

SPINDLER. (Jn quite a temper, and indicating the 
Stage-screw over at the left) Why, that thing there 
is sticking right up in the middle of the floor, and 
the first thing you 

Mrs. PampINELLI. Shush! (He turns and scowls 
at her, and she glares at him. He passes below Mrs. 
FELL and over to HossEFROSSE, at the extreme right 
and forward, where he whispers his grievance.) 

Mrs. Fett. You all right, Paula? (PauLa nods 


yes.) 


IIO THE TORCH-BEARERS 


.Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Don’t be nervous, now, Paula. 
(TwiLLer comes forward at the left.) 

Mrs. Ritter. I’m not the least bit, dear, really. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, that’s splendid, dear. 
I'll open the door for you. (She takes hold of the 
knob of the left door.) 

Mrs. Ritter. All right, thank you. (They stand 
listening, keenly.) 

FLorENCE. (Beyond the flats) Do you mind if 
I wait a few minutes, in case he comes? 

Treppy. (Beyond the flats) Why, I was just go- 
ing home. 

FLoRENCE. Oh, were you? (Twitter lifts his 
hat and gives it a little wave at Mrs. RITTER, and 
she waves her hand back at him.) 

Treppy. Yes, ma’m; and I have to lock up the 
office before I go. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI, (Suddenly) There it is now, 
dear. (She opens the door, and Mrs. RITTER steps 
back a bit, in order to make a more effective en- 
trance.) Good luck, darling. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to her) Thank you, 
dear. (She steps through the door, tripping awk- 
wardly over the door-strip. Mrs. PAMPINELLI makes 
a gesture of extreme annoyance. There is an out- 
burst of applause; then Mrs. PAMPINELLI closes 
the door, and they all step to the flats and peek 
through, Mrs. PAMPINELLI at the left door, Mrs. 
FELL at the right, Mr. SPINDLER between them, and 
HosseFrossE and Twitter about halfway back at 
the right and left, respectively. There is a pause; 
and then Mrs. RITTER can be heard beyond the 
flats.) Hello, kid! 

Teppy. Hello, Mrs. Arlington. 

Mrs. Ritter. Is my sweetie in? 

Teppy. No, ma’m, he ain’t. 

Mrs. Ritter. (With an unnatural inflection) 
What ! 


ee a 


ee eee 


ee ee ee 


te et 


THE TORCH-BEARERS III 


Mrs. Fett. (Calling over in a whisper to Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI) Betty! (Mrs. PAMPINELLI doesn’t 
hear her, so she tiptoes over toward her.) Betty! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What? 

Mrs. Fett. Did Paula trip? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming away from the flat, 
and moving down to Mrs. FELL) Yes. (Mrs. FeLi 
gives an annoyed shake of her head.) But I don’t 
see-how anyone can get onto that stage without trip- 
ping. 

Mrs. Fextv. I don’t, either. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. It seems an utter impossibil- 
ity to me for anyone, especially a woman, to get 
through those doors without catching her heel or 
her skirt or something. (SPINDLER crosses to the 
left, back of the ladies, and speaks to TwiLuER.) 

Mrs. FeLi. (Returning to the right door) It’s 
dreadful! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to her left and go- 
ing back again to the left door) 1 don’t see the 
necessity of it. 

Mrs. Fetr. (Opening her manuscript) I don’t 
either. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Listening keenly) I’m afraid 
they’re not hearing Paula at all. 

Mrs. Fett. What? 

Mrs. PampiNeLti. I say, I’m afraid Paula isn’t 
loud enough. 

Mrs. Fett. Well, why don’t you speak to her, 
Betty; she’s sitting right here. (She indicates the 
point right inside the right door, and Mrs. PAMPIN- 
ELLI, picking up her skirt, hurries over. Mrs. FELL 
steps out of the way, to the right.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Putting her lips to the jotn- 
ing of the door-wing and the side wing) Speak a 
little louder, Paula! I’m afraid they’re not hearing 
you! 

Mrs. Fery. Can she hear you? 


112 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. A little louder, dear! (The 
right door is thrust open by Teppy. ) 

Trppy. (In a frantic whisper) There’s no pen 
and ink on the desk! (SPINDLER rushes over from 
the left.) 

SPINDLER. What? (Mrs. PAMPINELLI, Mrs. 
Fett and Mr. Hosserrosse rush round to him from 
the right.) 

Teppy. No pen and ink! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What is it, Teddy? 


(TEeppy and SPINDLER together.) 


Teppy. No pen and ink on the desk! 
SPINDLER. No pen and ink! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. My God! 

Mrs. Fety. Tell her to use a lead-pencil! 


(Teppy and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


Treppy. (To Mrs. Fett) There’s none on there! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Give him a lead-pencil, Mr. 
Spindler ! 

SPINDLER. (Whirling and springing toward the 
left) Haven’t got one! (TrEppy, Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
and Mrs. FELL rush after him.) 


(SPINDLER and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 
SPINDLER. Twiller! 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, dear, dear! 
Twitter. (Rushing toward them from the left) 
What’s the matter? 
(SPINDLER and Teppy together. ) 


SPINDLER. Got a lead-pencil? 
Teppy. Give him a lead-pencil, Ralph! 


te ae aa oe 
tal ¢ es _ 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 113 


Twitter. (Dropping his cane) No! (They 
fling him out of the way, to the left, and rush on 
back to the stage manager.) What are you trying 
to do, knock me off my feet! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Haven’t you got one, Mr. 
Twiller? 


(SPINDLER and Mrs. FELL together.) 


SPINDLER. (To the stage manager) Got a lead- 
pencil, old man? 

Mrs. Fert. (At Mrs. PAmprinetti’s heels) 
There’s one in my bag somewhere! 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI, SPiNDLER and TeEppy together.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to Mrs. FELL) 
See what they’re doing out there, Nelly! 

SPINDLER. (To the stage manager) Or a foun- 
tain-pen ! 

Teppy. (To the stage manager) They need it on 
the stage! 


(Mrs, Fett and Stace MANAGER together.) 


Mrs. Fett. (Turning and rushing back toward 
the right door) Certainly, darling! 

Stace Manacer. (Feeling in his shirt pockets) 
Well, now, wait a minute, wait a minute! ; 
Mrs. Fett. (Turning with a despairing gesture, 
after having opened the right door and looked in) 
My dear, they’re not doing a thing, they’re just sit- 

ting there! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to the left) Hurry, 
boys! (Turning io the right.) ‘Tell them to say 
something, Nelly! Anything at all! Something 
about the weather! (NELLY runs to the extreme 
right end of the flat. Trppy and SPINDLER coma 


114: THE TORCH-BEARERS 
rushing forward at the left.) Did you get it, Teddy? 
(TEppy and SPINDLER together.) 


TrEppy. Yes! 

SPINDLER. Yes, he’s got it! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Indicating the left door) 
Go on here, Teddy! (He grabs the knob of the 
door, but it won’t open.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Calling through the flats) Say 
something, Paula! © 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You should never leave the 
stage during a scene, Teddy! 


(TEppy and Mrs. FEL together.) 


Treppy. (Wrestling with the door) Damn these 
doors! i 

Mrs. FELL. (Calling through the flats) Some- 
thing about the weather! 

Mrs. PampPINELLI. Take hold of this, Mr. Spind- 
ler! (He grabs the knob of the door and TEppy 
runs across to the right door.) 

Teppy. [ll go on here! 

Mrs. Fett. (As TEppy goes through the right 
door) If you can’t use one door, use the other! 
(The door closes after him; and Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
turns and looks upon SPINDLER, who is still trying 
to get the left door open.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You know, this is all your 
fault, Mr. Spindler. (He doesn’t look up.) You 
said you’d attend to all those properties! 

Mrs. Fett. What’s the matter with the door, 
Betty? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (To SPINDLER) Never mind 
itnow. (She moves toward the center of the stage.) 

SPINDLER. We'd better get it open before some- 
body has to use it again. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 115 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Go away from it, I tell you! 
(He walks away toward the left, sulking.) It will 
probably open all right from the other side. (She 
comes forward slowly, touching her hair and relax- 
ing generally, then, suddenly, stands stock-still, and 
listens, wide-eyed. She looks quickly at Mrs. Fett, 
who ts carefully settling her necklace, at the right 
door.) What’s wrong out there, Nelly? (NELLY 
turns and looks through the flats, then turns quickly 
to Mrs. PAMPINELLI. ) 

Mrs. Fey. I think he’s up! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Frozen to the spot) Who? 
(NEtty looks again, and then back to Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI. ) 

Mrs. Fett. All of them! 

Mrs. PamMpINnELLI. (Picking up her skirt and 
rushing toward the right door) Let me see! (NELLY 
jumps out of the way, to the right, and TWILLER 
and SPINDLER rush to the left door and peek 
through. Mrs. PaMPINELLI peeks through, and 
then speaks through the flats) What’s the matter, 
Teddy? Go over and get your hat and coat! (Turn- 
ing frantically to Mrs. Fett) He’s up in his lines! 
What is it? 

Mrs. Fett. (Ina panic) Up in his knes! 


(Mrs. PaMPINELLI and Mrs. FELL together.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Speaking through the flats) 
Go over and get your hat and coat, Teddy! Don’t 
stand there like a jack! 

Mrs. FELL. (Handing the manuscript to HossE- 
FROSSE, who is at her right) Oh, find that for me, 
will you, Huxley? (He takes the manuscript from 
her and turns it over furiously, while NELLY opens 
her lorgnon.) About page eleven, I think it is! 
(She assists him in finding the place.) 


116 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What was the last line, Nelly? 
This is dreadful! 

Mrs, FELL. Now, wait a moment, darling! Don’t 
get me nervous, or I'll never be able to find it! 
(TwiLLer and SPINDLER are in a panic of suspense 
over at the left door.) 

HossErrosseE. Here’s page eleven. 

Mrs. Feti. Is that eleven? Well, now, here it 
is, right here Why, a—— [I'll get you an en- 
velope! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What’s the next? 

Mrs. Fett. The next is—a—why, a—l’ve got to 
go now 


(Mrs. Fett and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


Mrs. Feri. It takes me nearly an hour to get 
home! 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Calling through the flats) It 
takes me nearly an hour to get home. 

Trppy. It takes me an hour to get home! 

Mrs. Fett. Are they all right? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming away from the flats ) 
Yes, they’re all right now. But you'd better stand 
right here, I’m afraid of Paula. (She moves toward 
the left.) 

SPINDLER. (Coming toward her) You know, I 
could have sworn I put a pen and ink on that desk! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Imperiously) Please, Mr. 
Spindler, don’t explain anything! I am interested 
in results. (She turns and moves back again toward 
the right, and SPINDLER goes over to the left. Just 
as he passes beyond the left door, the entire lock and 
knob fall to the floor. He turns nervously, only to 
find Mrs. PamPINELLI, who has turned quite as 
nervously, looking at him. dangerously.) 

SPINDLER. I didn’t touch it! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Will you go away, before you 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 117 


ruin the entire performance! (He snaps around 
and goes over to the left and up toward the back.) 

TEeppy. (Opening the left door and swaying 
through) Good night. (He is dressed in a brown 
sack-suit and wears tan shoes.) 

FiorENcE. (Beyond the flats) Good night, son. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Beyond the flats) Good night, 
kid. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Going toward him) You 
should never walk off the stage, Teddy, in the middle 
of a scene! (He closes the door behind him, and, 
pressing his hand to his brow, starts toward the left.) 
Do something, no matter what itis! (He falls back- 
ward in a full-length faint. She catches him.) Oh, 
dear child! Mr. Spindler! Come here, Mr. Twil- 
ler, Teddy’s fainted! (TwiLLer, who has been stand- 
ing over at the left, and forward, rushes toward her; 
and Mrs. FELL, followed by HOsSEFROSSE, comes 
rushing from the right.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Jn a panic) What’s the matter, 
Betty? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Take Teddy over to the door, 
Mr. Twiller, he’s fainted! 

Twitter. (Dropping his cane, in his excitement ) 
I can't take him now, I’ve got a cue coming right 
here in a minute! (SPINDLER comes rushing down 
from the left.) 

Mrs. PampineLtiI. Here, Mr. Spindler, take 
Teddy over to the door, where he'll get some air! 
He’s sick. Look at the color of him. (She hands 
him to SPINDLER, who half carries him up at the 
left; and she and Twitter follow on behind them.) 
Hold on to him, now, Mr. Spindler. 

Mrs. FELL. (Turning back toward the right door, 
and addressing HossEFROSSE, who has returned to 
his former position down at the right) IT always said 
he wasn’t strong enough for that part! (She just 


118 ~- THE TORCH-BEARERS 


gets past the right door when tt is frantically opened 
and Mrs. Ritter thrusts her head out.) — 

Mrs. Ritter. (Breathlessly) Mr. Twiller! (The 
door closes again.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Running toward the left) Mr. 
Twiller! They’re waiting for you! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Rushing forward at the left) 
What is it? 

Mrs. Fett. (Ina perfect frenzy) They’re wait- 
ing for Mr. Twiller! 

Mrs. Pamprinetyti. Mr. Twiller! (He snatches 
up his cane from the floor, but the hook of tt catches 
in the stage-brace, and he has considerable yanking 
to do to get it loose. Mrs. Fett raps on the left 
door.) Go on, Mr. Twiller, for Heaven’s sake! 
The stage is waiting! (She pulls the door open for 
him. He straightens his hat and then raps on the 
wing beside the door.) Oh, go on! never mind rap- 
ping! That’s been done! (He steps through the 
door and she slams it after him, catching his left arm 
and hand. The cane is in his left hand, and it falls 
at Mrs. PaAMPINELLI’s feet. She pulls the door open 
again to release his arm; then gives the door a defi- 
mite slam. A burst of applause greets TWILLER’s 
entrance. Mrs. PAMPINELLI ts in a perfect wrath. 
She sweeps across toward the right, and back again 
all the way across to the left; then turns and starts 
back toward the right. As she passes the left door 
she sees TWILLer’s cane, and, realizing 1m a flash 
that he will have need of it in his scene, she picks it 
up, opens the left door slightly, and flings it in onto 
the stage. Then she continues on toward the right, 
turns and crosses back again to the left, holding up 
her skirt and bristling with temper.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Back at the right door, speaking to 
HossEFROSSE, down at the right) How are my eyes? 
Instead of paying attention to his part! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming across to the right) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 119 


People rehearsing their cues a thousand times, and 
then don’t know them when they hear them! It’s 
positively disgusting! (She turns and goes back 
again to the left, turns, and starts back to the right. 
HOssEFROSSE tiptoes toward her.) 

HosseFrossE. What happened to Teddy, did he 
get sick out there? 

Mrs. PamprIneLtt. No, just a little reaction. 
(HosseFrossE nods comprehendingly.) He gives 
too much to the scene. He doesn’t understand emo- 
tional conservation yet. (HossEFROssE shakes his 
head knowingly and returns to the right, and Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI steps to the left door and listens.) 

FiorENcE. (Just audibly, beyond the flats) She’s 
waiting for my very unpunctual husband. In fact, 
we are both waiting for him, to be precise. But I’ve 
just been telling her I’m afraid we may as well give 
it up, for he’s never kept an appointment in his life. 
I’m sorry he isn’t here, if you wanted to see him. 

Twitter. (Beyond the flats) I don’t know 
whether I wanted to see him or not; it depends. 

FiLorENcE. I don’t understand you. 

Twitter. I don’t fully understand myself! 
(There is a very general laugh from beyond the 
flats. Mrs. PaMprIneLui looks anxiously at NELLY, 
and NEtty looks up at her from the manuscript.) 

Mrs. PaMPINnELLI. What was that? 

Mrs. Fett. (Not having caught what she said) 
What? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What was that the audience 
was laughing at? (Mrs. FELL peeks through at the 
door where she is standing, then turns desperately 
to Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) 

Mrs. Fett. Half of Mr. Twiller’s mustache fell 
off! (She looks through the peek again. Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI puts her hand against her brow and 
leans upon the stage-brace, the picture of tragedy. 


120 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. FELL turns to her again.) I don’t think the 
audience noticed it. He stuck it right on again! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. That doesn’t matter, there is 
absolutely no excuse for it! He’s been here since 
four o'clock this afternoon! (She crosses toward 
the left and back again.) 

FLorENCE. (Beyond the flats) What sort of a 
rumor was it, Mr. Rush, if I may ask? 

Twitter. (Beyond the flats) The usual kind. 
(There’s another laugh from beyond the flats, and 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI stands petrified, just below the 
left door. Mrs. FELL turns quickly and peeks, then 
turns to Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Despairingly) It fell off again! 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI raises her fists and shakes them.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, why on earth hasn’t he 
brains enough to leave it off! 

Mrs. Fett. He has his hat on, too! (Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI steps to the left door and speaks through 
it.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Leave your mustache off, Mr. 
Twiller! Leave it off/—And take off your hat; 
you're inside. (HOossEFROSSE tiptoes over from the 
right. ) 

HossEFrossE. What’s the matter? Did his mus- 
tache fall off? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes, twice; and he keeps 
sticking it on again. (HossEerrosse shakes his head 
regretfully and tiptoes back to the right.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Beyond the flats) It’s perfectly 
ridiculous! 

FiorENcE. (Beyond the flats) Too bad my hus- 
band isn’t here. 

Twitter. (Beyond the flats) Yes, it is; I had 
counted upon seeing him. 

FLorENCE. I’m sure he’d be able to explain. 

Twitter. Well, I hope he would! The thing is 
damned annoying! (Mrs. RITTER gives an unearth- 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 121 


ly laugh, which is supposed to express derision. Mrs. 
Fett looks up from her manuscript, and Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI smiles and nods approvingly at her.) Even 
if you don’t appreciate it. 

Mrs. Fett. Wonderful. (She turns and smiles 
and nods at HosseFrossE; then they all listen again. 
The stage manager, who has arisen from his chair at 
the sound of Mrs. Ritter’s disdainful laughier, 
comes forward at the left, with his pipe in one hand 
and his newspaper in the other. He has a puzzled, 
inquiring expression, and looks from one to the other 
quizzically; but Mrs. PAMPINELLI has her back to 
him, Mrs. FEL is looking at her manuscript, and 
Mr. Hosserrosse’s face ts, as usual, utterly expres- 
sionless, so he steps to the juncture of the back flats 
with the side wings and peeks through, curiously. 
Then he returns to his chair up at the left, shaking 
his head from side to side.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Beyond the flats) 1 don’t know 
what it is, yet! 

Twitter. (Beyond the flats) You know very 
well what it is! 

Mrs, Ritter. You haven’t told us. 

Twitter. You're here, aren’t you? 

Mrs. Ritter. Yes. 

Twitter. Well, that’s it, exactly! (Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI smiles approvingly, and moves toward the 
right.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Calling HossEFROssE, who 
is engaged in studying his lines from a paper, over 
at the right) Mr. Hossefrosse. 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning to him) Huxley! (He 
looks up, and tiptoes toward Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) 

Mrs. PampINeLui. How is this hall to speak in? 

HosserrosseE. Why, I shouldn’t say it was good. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I thought not. 

HosserrossE. It’s too big for the speaking voice. 


122 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a gesture) You have 
to project the tone, do you not? 

HossEFrosse. Oh, yes, absolutely. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Taking a step toward the 
back flat, and listening) I’m afraid they’re not hear- 
ing Paula at all. 

HossEFrosseE. (Putting his fingers to lis throat) 
I’m using my upper register almost entirely. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Glancing at him) You're 
very fortunate to know how to do it. 

HossEFrosse. Did it sound all right from back 
here? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, splendid, yes, Mr. Hosse- 
frosse—your voice is beautiful. (He raises his hand 
deprecatingly.) Really,—I was just saying to Mrs. 
Fell, I’m so sorry there isn’t another act, that you 
might sing a solo between them. (He beams and 
deprecates again, profusely, and turns to the right. 
SPINDLER comes down at the left and toward Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI.) Really! Splendid. (She sees 
SPINDLER.) Where’s Teddy? 

SPINDLER. He’s gone over to the drug store. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. With his make-up on? 

SPINDLER. He said he wanted to get some aro- 
matic spirits of ammonia. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You have a cue right here 
soon, haven’t you? 

SPINDLER. (Taking the telephone-arrangement 
from his pocket, and crossing toward the right door) 
Where are they? 

Mrs, FeLi. (Suddenly looking up from her manu- 
script) Telephone, Mr. Spindler! 

Mrs. PAmMPINELLI. There it is now—ring it! 

SPINDLER. (Shaking it desperately) It won't 
ring! (Mrs. FeLu turns to HOSSEFROSSE im desper- 
ation. ) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 123 


(Mrs. PAmpinetti, Mrs. FELL and HosseFrrossé 
together.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Shake it harder; it rang be- 
fore! 
Mrs. Fert. What’s the matter with the fool 


thing? 

HosserrossE. Hit it against something, Mr. 
Spindler ! 

SPINDLER. There’s something the matter with the 
battery ! 


Fiorence. (Audibly, from beyond the fiats) 
Hello! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Relaxing) Let it go,—it’s 
too late now. (SPINDLER continues to tinker with 
it.) You’ve missed every other cue—(She moves 
toward the left )—-you may as well be consistent for 
the rest of the evening. 

SPINDLER. (Following her) Well, good night! 
I can’t help it if the electricity won’t work, can I?. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning upon him furious- 
ly) You should have attended to it beforehand and 
then it would work! (Mrs. FELL waves her hand 
at them, to be quiet.) 

SPINDLER. Well, my God! I can’t be in a half-a- 
dozen places at the same time! 

Mrs, Fett. Shush! (HossrrrossE tiptoes up 
to her and deplores the noise that Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
and SPINDLER are making.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No one is asking you to be in 
half-a-dozen places at the same time! You've sim- 
ply been asked to attend to your cues; and you’ve 
missed every one you've had! 

Mrs. Fett and Hosserrosse. (Together) Shush! 

SPINDLER. You told me to take care of Teddy, 
didn’t you? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I told you to take him to the 


124 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


door! I didn’t say to take him all the way to the 
drug store! . 

SPINDLER. Did you want me to let the man wan- 
der off somewhere by himself, and maybe die! 

Mrs. FELL. (Waving her manuscript at them) 
Shus—sh ! 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and SPINDLER together.) 


SPINDLER. Just for the sake of not missing a 
cue! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With bitter amusement) 
There is very little danger of his dying! And even 
if he did die, your duty is here! (She points to the 
floor with an imperative gesture. The-right door 
is quietly pushed open, and TWILLER, with one-half 
of his mustache gone, pokes his head out.) 

Twitter. Shush! (He glances from one side to 
the other, withdraws his head, and quietly closes the 
door. SPINDLER crosses below Mrs. PAMPINELLI, 
to the left, then turns and looks at her angrily.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning to HossEFrossE) What 
did I tell you! Making more noise out here than 
they are out there! 

Mrs. PamprInetyi. (Still holding her gesture, 
but following SPINDLER with her eyes) Perform- 
ances are never interrupted simply because one of 
the artists happens to die! If you were a profes- 
sional you’d know that; but you’re not! (She turns 
away from him, toward the right, and, simultaneous- 
ly, the left door is opened, almost striking her. She 
raises her arm to protect herself. Mrs. RiTTer is 
standing in the doorway.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Speaking to TWILterR, who ts still 
beyond the flats) Look and see. (The telephone- 
arrangement in SPINDLER’s hands suddenly rings 
wildly. ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to him frantically) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 125 


Oh, stop that thing! (Mrs. Ritter glances furtive- 
ly over her left shoulder at Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Mrs. 
FELL comes rushing over, motioning to SPINDLER to 
stop the beil.) 

PINDLER. (Struggling with the bell) I can’t 
stop it! (Mrs. Ritter hastily steps back through 
the door and pulls it to after her.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, then, take it outside, 
where they can’t hear it! (SPINDLER scrambles to- 
ward the back and out of sight at the left. Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI starts back toward the right.) 

Mrs. Fert, What’s the matter with that Spind- 
ler man, anyway? 

Mrs. PamMpiInetti. I don’t know what’s the mat- 
ter with him! I’ve given up thinking about him. 

Mrs. Fett. He acts to me like a person that 
wouldn’t be in his right mind! (She goes back to- 
ward the right door.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Standing in the middle of 
the stage) He’s simply not a professional, that’s all. 
(The left door opens again, and Mrs. RITTER 1s 
standing in it. Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns suddenly 
and looks at her. Mrs. RITTER repeats her unearth- 
ly laugh, which again arouses the curiosity of the 
stage manager, to the extent that he rises and comes 
forward again at the left to get a look at her. Then 
he returns to his chair, taking the door-slam with 
him, and standing it against the wing.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Addressing Twitter, beyond the 
flats) What about the gentlemen? 

Frorence. (Beyond the flats) Jealous husbands, 
chiefly, aren’t they? (Twitter comes out through 
the left door, past Mrs. Ritter.) Didn’t you want 
to leave a message for the Doctor, Mr. Rush? 
(Twitter turns right round and goes back to the 
door.) 

Twitter. Who, me? 

Frorence. If you wish. 


126 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Ritter. (Having some difficulty seemg 
FLORENCE over TWILLer’s right shoulder) He 
might leave an apology. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Very much annoyed, and 
stepping close to the flat, just to the right of the door) 
Get out of the doorway, Mr. Twiller! 

FLorENcE. (Beyond the flats) Perhaps we 
haven’t convinced him of his mistake, 


(Mrs. PaMPINELLI and Mrs. RITTER together.) 


Mrs. PAmpineLyi. (Trying desperately to at- 
tract TWILLER’s attention, and becoming more em- 
phatic ) i ieet) out: of the doorway, Mr. Twiller; 
you're covering Paula up! 

Mrs. Ritter. (Trying to talk to FLORENCE over 
TWILLer’s shoulder) Well, he'll apologize to me, 
whether we’ve convinced him or not, (Mrs. FELL 
and HOSSEFROSSE come over to see if they can be of 
any assistance.) 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and TwILLEr together.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Becoming desperate) Paula! 
(PavuLa gives her a nervous glance) Will one of 
you go farther in! Mr. Twiller! 

Twitter. (Addressing FLORENCE) Have you 
convinced yourselves? (He gives Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
an irritated look over his left shoulder.) 

Fiorence. That there has been a mistake? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Go farther in, one of you! 
(TwILLer gives her another look, then speaks to 
FLORENCE. ) 

Twitter. Yes! (Mrs. PAMPINELLI can contain 
herself no longer, so, picking up her skirt, and hold- 
ing her hand against the left side of her head, she 
darts across the open. door, to the left, and speaks to 
them around the edge of the door. Mrs. FELL, tak- 


te ie 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 127 


ing advantage of the circumstance of Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI'S crossing, tiptoes up to TWILLER and strikes 
him on the left arm, quite viciously, with the rolled 
manuscript. Asa polite remonstrance, he shakes his 
left hand and foot at her. But she is not dismayed, 
and repeats the attack, even more viciously. Then 
he turns and glares at her, and she turns away to- 
ward the right, desperately.) 

FLoRENCE. A great mistake. 

Mrs. Ritter. Disappointed? Because, you know, 
we can invent a scandal, if you insist. 

Mrs. Fett. Oh, what a man! What a man! 


(FLORENCE and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


FioreNceE. I’m afraid my presence here would be 
a bit incongruous, even for that. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Go farther in, Mr. Twiller; 
don’t both of you stand wedged in the doorway that 
way, it looks dreadful! 

Twitter. (Raising his right arm and resting his 
hand against the jamb of the door, completely cut- 
ting off Mrs. RiTTER’s view of FLORENCE) That’s 
the rub. (Mrs. RITTER stands on her tiptoes to try 
and see over his arm, but being unsuccessful in this 
effort, stoops a bit, and tries to look under his arm.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI, Take your arm down, Mr. 
Twiller! (Mrs. RitTer reaches up and quietly but 
firmly draws Twitier’s arm down. Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI turns away to the left, disgusted.) My God! 
I never gave any such direction as that! 

FLorENcE. Be at ease, Mr. Rush; if you were not 
mistaken I should have known it,—and so should 
you; I’m not a tragic woman. Did you want to 
leave any message for the Doctor, Mrs. Rush? 

Mrs. Ritter. (At Twitter’s right) Yes,— 
(Twitter turns his head sharply and looks right 
into her eyes. She steps around back of him and 


128 THE TORCH-BEARERS — 


speaks to FLORENCE over his left shoulder)—I1 wish 
you’d say that my husband called—(TwiILLer turns 
and looks into her eyes again, and she steps around 
back of him again, to his right)—for my bill. (She 
reaches out and starts to draw the door to. Twit- 
LER, very ill at ease, and awkwardly looking from 
side to side, not knowing just how to get out grace- 
fully, makes a full turn round to his right.) 

TWILLer. (Raising his hat to FLORENCE) Good 
evening, Mrs. Arlington. (Mrs. Ritter closes the 
door, causing him to drop his cane; but he’s too ex- 
cited to notice it.) 

HossEFRosseE. (Standing at the right door, ex- 
tending his hand) Great, old man! 

Twitter. (Dropping his gloves, as he shakes 
hands) Thanks. (He continues to the right.) 

Mrs. Fett. (As he passes below her) Splendid, 
Ralph! What happened to your mustache? (She 
laughs. ) 

TWILLER. Can you beat that, Nelly! I couldn’t 
coax that thing off before I went on! 

HossEFrrossE. (Holding the knob of the right 
door) Shush! 

Mrs. Fett. I don’t think the audience noticed it. 

HosseFrossE. (Turning to them) Shush! (Twi.- 
LER goes down to the right, and Mrs. FEL returns 
to her manuscript. The left door is flung open. 
They all watch eagerly.) 

Ms. Ritter. (Inside the left door) If you will, 
please? : 

FLORENCE. Certainly. 

Mrs. Ritter. Thanks. 

Fiorence. Don’t mention it. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Trying to appear very bold) 
Good-bye. 

FLORENCE. Good-bye. (Mrs. RITTER gives an- 
other famous laugh, sways through the door, trip- 
ping over the door-strip, closes the door, looks at 


: 


+ 
~ 
. 


3 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 12g 


Mrs. PaMpPINeLii, who is standing at the left, and 


bursts out laughing. There is prolonged applause 
from beyond the flats. ) 

Mrs. PamMpINELLI. Splendid, Paula! 

Hosserrosse. (Listening intently for hus cue, 
from beyond the flats) Shush-shush! (Mrs. Rir- 
TER looks at him, still laughing foolishly.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Waving at Pauta) Lovely, dear! 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning to Mrs. PAMPINELLI) 
I forgot my umbrella. 

Mrs. PaMpPINELLI. Where is it? 

Mrs. Ritter. I left it on the stage. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. That doesn’t matter. (HosseE- 
FROSSE tries to silence them by dint of impatient ges- 
turing with his right hand.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, Betty, I think I saw Clara 
Sheppard out there! 

Mrs. PampInettr. Not really? 

HosseFrosseE. Shush! 

Frorence. (From beyond the flats) You can 
come out now, Clyde; they’ve gone. (HosSEFROSSE 
yarks the right door open, causing the wood-wing at 
the right to topple and fall forward.) 

Twitter. (Leaping to catch it, before it hits Mrs. 
FeLtL) Hold it! (Mrs. Fett hunches her arms and 
shoulders and screams.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Rushing over from the left) 
What is it? 

Twitter. (Struggling to set the wing up in place — 
again) This thing nearly fell! Just got it in time! 
(Mrs. FELL moves out of the way, over to the left, 
and Mrs. PAMPINELLI tries to assist TWILLER.) 

Mrs. Pamprnetti. Is it all right now? 

Twitter. (Brushing his hands and clothes, and 
coming forward at the right) Yes, it’s all right now. 
Just got it in time. 

Mrs. Fett. (Rushing up to Mrs. Ritter, who is 
coming toward her from the left, and shaking her by 


130 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


the arms) Oh, you were marvelous, darling! (Mrs. 
RITTER giggles foolishly.) I could just hug you! - 

Mrs. Ritter. I forgot my umbrella. 

Mrs. Fett. Wonderful performance! (She steps 
to the right door and opens her manuscript. Mrs. 
RITTER moves a litile to the right and stands looking 
at the wood-wing.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning from a more pre- 
cise adjustment of the wood-wing) Oh, Mr. Twil- 
ler! 

Twitter. Yes? 

Mrs. PamMpPINELLI. How did you and Paula get 
wedged in that door that way, over there a moment 
ago? 

Twitter. (On Mrs. PAMPINELLI’s right) Oh, 
I’m awfully sorry about that! I got a little twisted 
on (Mrs. Ritter comes to Mrs. PAMPINELLI’S 
left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to Mrs. RITTER) 
I was just asking Mr. Twiller about that nicer in 
the door. 


(Mrs. PamMPINneLLI, Mrs. RITTER and TWILLeR to- 
gether.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Of course, it really didn’t 
matter very much. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, my dear, wasn’t that just too 
dreadful! But I didn’t know what to do! I knew 
there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what 
it was! 

Twitter. It was my fault. I got a little twisted 
there in my business-cues. I got up to the door a 
couple of speeches too soon. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLi. I don’t think the audience no- 
ticed it. 

Mrs. Fett. (Frantically searching in the manu- 
script) Shush! 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 131 


Mrs. Ritter. Don’t you think they did, Betty? 

Mrs. Fett. Shush! (They all turn and look at 
her. Mrs. PAMPINELLI steps toward her.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Is somebody up? (NELLY 
simply silences her with a gesture, and opens the 
door slightly.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Prompting through the door) 
You've all been listening to a lot of damned, cheap 
gossip! 

HossEFrosseE. (From beyond the flats) You've 
all been listening to a lot of damned, cheap gossip! 

Fiorence. (Beyond the flats) Which should 
show you that people are talking. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. Somebody up? (NELLY just 
shakes her head and relaxes.) Mr. Hossefrosse? 

Mrs. Fett. The “damned, cheap gossip” line. 

Mrs. PampPINneLui. (Listening keenly) Is he all 
right again? 

Mrs. Fett. Yes, he’s all right now; but it’s funny 
how that line has sent him up at every performance. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to rejoin Mrs. Rit- 
TER and TwILLER) It’s purely mental. 

HossEFrosseE. (From beyond the flats, violently) 
No! (The stage manager, over at the left, jumps to 
his feet, causing the hammer to fall from his pocket. 
The’ door-slam also falls, with a bang. The stage 
manager has been dozing, and the thunder of Mr. 
HossEFRosse’s outburst has considerably startled 
him. He comes forward at the left and looks over 
at Mrs. FE, to inquire the cause of the disturb- 
ance.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Motioning to him with her manu- 
script) Shush! (He looks about and then goes 
back and picks up the hammer and door-slam. As 
he resumes his seat he takes another glance around.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (As Mrs. PAMPINELLI comes for- 
ward again at the right, between her and TwIiLiER) 
You know, I felt like a perfect fool standing there 


132 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


in that door, but I couldn’t catch what you were say- 
ing. (TWwILLerR laughs. ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, dear, I really don’t think 
the audience noticed it. 

Twitter. I hope they didn’t. 

Mrs. Ritter. It must have looked awful 

Mrs. Pampinetii.. No, dear, it didn’t, really; 
you both covered it up very nicely. 

Twitter. I tried to cover it up when my mus- 
tache fell off, too ;—but I had so many lines right in 
there. I held it on as long as I could, but I was 
afraid the audience was beginning to notice it. 

Mrs. Pampinetyt. I was so glad you had the 


presence of mind not to attempt to stick it on again 


when it fell off the second time. 

Twitter. I was afraid to take the time. I had 
a cue right there ; so when it fell off the second time, 
I just—let it lie there. (He makes a casual gesture 
with his right hand.) 

Mrs. PaAMPINELLI. That was quite right. 

Twitter. (Laughing a little) It’s out there yet. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Giggling) So is my umbrella. 
(They all laugh.) Oh, listen, Betty dear! I think 
I'll just run upstairs for a minute and use that tele- 
phone—see how Fred is. (She starts toward the 
left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Following her) Yes, do, 
Paula. 

Mrs. Ritter. I’m kind of worried about him. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. See if he’s regained conscious- 
ness yet. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Regardless of the fact that a play 
is in progress) Excuse me! 

Mr. Fett. (Looking up from her manuscript) 
Shush ! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Certainly, dear. (TWILLER 
raises his hat toward her, and she waves back at him. 


: 
: 


| 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 133 


Then he goes up at the right and peeks through the 
side wings.) Oh, Paula! 

Mrs: Ritter. (Turning) Yes, dear? 

Mrs. PampPINEeLLi. Be sure and get down in time 
for the curtains. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, yes. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I imagine there’ll be a lot of 
flowers come over. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Starting up at the left) Till be 
right down as soon as I telephone. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Yes, do, dear. (Mrs. RitTER 
goes out at the left, and Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns, 
touching her hair, and starts back toward the right. 
Something falls beyond the flats. She stops dead, 
and listens. Mrs. FELL turns quickly and peeks 
through the right door. TWILLER comes forward at 
the right and looks inquiringly.) 

FioreNce. (Just audible beyond the flats) 
Then, you’ve allowed him to think so. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What’s that? 

FLorENcE. (Beyond the flats) Perhaps it is. 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning to Mrs. PAMPINELLI, and 
quite casually) He knocked the ash-tray over. 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI relaxes, and proceeds to arrange 
the beaded ornaments on her dress, while Mrs. FELL 
moves a bit farther over to the right and stands lis- 
tening, manuscript and lorgnon in hand. TwiLLEeR 
crosses to the left, below Mrs. FELL, and gathers 
up his gloves and cane.) 

Hosserrosse. (Beyond the flats) You are delib- 
erately misinterpreting this situation! Yes, you are! 
It’s perfectly ridiculous that a physician cannot take 
a woman patient without being subjected to the whis- 
perings of a lot of vulgar scandal-mongers. 

FLorENce. This is not a romantic age, Clyde. 

TwILter. (Coming to Mrs. PAMPINELLI’ right} 
Was that inflection of mine any better tonight on 
that line, “I’m puzzled”? 


134 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, very much better. I was 
listening for it. 

Twitter. (Thoughtfully) I never seemed to get 
the sense of that line until tonight. It just seemed 
to—come to me, out there on the stage. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, that is a very significant 
line, Mr. Twiller, coming where it does. (SPINDLER 
comes wandering on from the left, comes forward, 
looks about, and goes up to the side wing and looks 
through. ) 

Twitter. I felt a great deal easier in that new 
business of turning—down at the bookcase—that you 
gave me last night. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI (With a touch of smugness) 
Much better. 

Twitter. Did you notice it? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, of course, I couldn’t see 
it. I was here; but I could sense it; and I could tell 
from the tone of the scene that it was better. (Sprnp- 
LER moves over to the extreme left, about halfway 
back, and, taking the refractory telephone bell ar- 
rangement from his pocket, starts to tinker with it.) 

TwILLer. I just turned my head this way—— 
(He turns his head sharply to the right, keeping his 
body and shoulders perfectly rigid.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Excellent. 

TWwILLerR. (Turning back to her) Without mov- 
ing my body. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Very good. 

Twitter. Instead of making the full swing 
around—(He makes a complete swing around on his 
right foot )—the way I had been doing. (Mrs. FEti 
raises her lorgnon and looks over, curiously.) 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. A very good change. 
Twitter. (Very seriously) I felt that it got 
them. 

Mrs. PampiIneLii. Well, you see, it gave them 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 135 


the full benefit of your expression. (They nod 
agreement.) 

TwiLter. There’s a great deal of light ooh shade 
in that part, right in there. 

Mrs. Pampinetyti. (Deprecatingly) ‘Ho! my 
dear,—it is all light and shade;—even to the ges- 
tures. (She makes a Delsartian movement with her 
arms and hands. Mrs. FELL comes forward a little 
further and observes the gesture keenly, through her 
lorgnon. ) 

Twitter. (Rather troubled, and shaking his head 
a bit) ve got to put a lot of work on my gestures, 
—they’re bad, I know. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, I shouldn’t exactly say 
that your gestures were bad; but I think, perhaps— 

Twitter. (Leaning heavily on his cane) Fae 
—I think I try too hard to be natural. 

Mrs. PAmMPINELLI. (Smiling, biting her lp, aid 
rolling her eyes) ‘That’s exactly what I was going 
to say. Your gestures are, in a way, too natural. 
(She gives a little mirthless laugh, and, out of cour- 
tesy, he joins her.) Of course, that is a very virtu- 
ous fault; but it isn’t pretty, is it? (She laughs 
again. ) 

Twitter. No, it isn’t. (The stage manager gets 
up, stretches himself, and comes forward at the left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. And, after all, the function of 
art is to be pretty, is it not? (She repeats the float- 
ing gesture.) 

Twitter. (Trying to imitate her) I don’t seem 
to be able—to do that, the way you do. (Mrs. FELL 
feels the call, and, putting the manuscript under her 
arm, tries rather unsuccessfully to copy the move- 
ment, ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, it is purely a matter of 
experience, Mr. Twiller. But when you’ve been in 
the work as long as I have,—you’ll realize that the 
bird’s-wing gesture is the only gesture. (She illus- 


136 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


trates again, for the edification of her disciples; and 
they attempt rather faithfully to imitate her. The 
stage manager stands looking at them. ) 

Frorence. (Beyond the flats) But it has its com- 
pensations—you'll have your memories. (There is a 
confusion of voices from beyond the flats, and cries 
of “Sit down!’ ) 

Mrs. PampiINELLI. (Startled) What’s that? 
(Mrs. Fett rushes to the right door and peeks 
through, TWILLER goes over to the right and up, and 
the stage manager rushes back to lus post and dis- 
appears at the left.) What is it, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning suddenly to Mrs. PAMPIN- 
ELLI) They’re carrying a man out of the audience! 
(She looks back again through the peek, and Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI steps to the left door and peeks. Mrs. 
SHEPPARD sweeps on up at the left, and comes for- 
ward. She is a slim brunette, in her thirties, very 
attractive, and wearing the very last whisper m 
widow's weeds. She looks around, rather dramatic- 
ally, then sees the ladies. Mrs. Fett looks away 
from the peek-hole and sees her.) Betty, there’s 
Clara! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Looking at Netty) What? 

Mrs. Fett. (Not wishing to be heard) Clara 
Sheppard. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI furns quickly.) 

Mrs. Pamprnetyi. Oh, Clara! (She goes to- 
wards her, and Ciara advances a little.) Ym so 
glad to see you! (Ciara breaks down and weeps.) 
Now, don’t do that, dear. You know Jimmy 
wouldn’t for anything in the world want you to feel 
that way. So be brave, honey. It was splendid of 
you to come here at all. And you look wonderful. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. I must look perfectly dreadful. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. You don’t look anything of 
the kind, darling ; you look perfectly beautiful. 

Mrs. Srepparp. All I’ve done is ery. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I know just how you feel 


, 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 137 


Mrs. SHEPPARD. But I didn’t want you to think 
I'd entirely forsaken the cause. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Oh, my dear, we understood 
perfectly. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. But I just felt I had to come 
here tonight. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Have you been out in front, 
Clara? 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Yes, I just had tosee it. I don’t 
think anybody saw me; I came in late, and stood 
way at the back. 

Mrs. PAmpINnELLI. They’d hardly see you. 

Mrs. SHEpparRD. I don’t think so; I kept my veil 
lowered. Of course, I should love to have been right 
down in front, where I could get all those wonder- 
ful little subtleties. But, you know how it is,—I 
was afraid people might not understand my being 
here at all. It’s only three weeks, you know. 

Mrs. Pamprtnetyi. They wouldn’t, either. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. That’s what I thought. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I don’t suppose there’s one 
person in ten thousand that has dramatic instinct 
enough to appreciate the way you feel. (She turns 
to the left door and listens.) 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Beginning to cry again) The 
flowers in the lobby are perfectly beautiful. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Stil listening) Yes, but 
I’m not having them passed over the footlights to- 
night. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Drying her eyes) No? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Except one bouquet for each 
of the ladies. It took up too much time the last 
time. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Glancing about) Where’s 
Paula? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. She’s upstairs, telephoning. 
She’s rather annoyed about Fred, you know. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. What about him? (Mrs. Pam- 


138 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


PINELLI turns from the door suddenly and looks at 
her.) 

FLorENcE. (Beyond the flats) There is, my 
dear boy,—for lots of people—— 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Why, my dear, didn’t you 
hear ?>—about him falling downstairs last night? 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Oh, not really! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming toward her) He 
fell almost the entire flight. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Oh, dear me! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Poor Paula’s terribly upset. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. What was he doing, coming 
down the stairs? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No, he was watching our re- 
hearsal. You know, we held the final rehearsal at 
Paula’s house last night—we couldn’t get this place. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Solicitously) Well, did he 
break any bones, Betty? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No,—Doctor Wentworth said 
—he was unconscious before he hit the floor. He 
said the fall was the result of a collapse; and that 
he would have fallen no matter where he had been. 
Unfortunately, he just happened to be on the stairs. 
(She turns back again to the left door.) 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Retrospectively) 1 thought 
he looked pale when I saw him out there tonight. 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns suddenly and looks at her.) 

FLorENcE. (Beyond the flats) And you have a 
very modern wife. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. When you saw him out here, 
you mean? (She indicates the audience beyond the 
flats.) 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Yes; he was standing out there 
at the back, right near me. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming toward her again) 
You must be mistaken, Clara. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. No, Betty, I’m quite sure I saw 
him. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 139 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, the only thing J know 
is that Paula said he hadn’t regained consciousness 
when she left the house this evening at seven-thirty. 
(Mrs. RITTER comes on up at the back, from the 
left, and comes forward.) Here’s Paula now! 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Turning round to her left) 
Poor dear, she must be terribly upset. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Extending her arms) Clara, 
dear! (Mrs. SHEpparp bursts into tears again.) 
This is so nice of you! (They embrace each other, 
and Mrs. RITTER starts to cry.) 

Mrs. Pampinetii. Isn’t she the sweet thing! 
(The door at the right opens.) 

Mrs. Fett. (To the ladies) Shush! (They all 
turn and look toward the right door.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With a gesture to Mrs, Rit- 
TER and Mrs. SHEPPARD) Shush! (HossEFROSSE 
comes out the right door.) 

FLorENcE. (Beyond the flats) It’s gotten very 
chilly. 

HosseFrosse. (Picking up his hat, cane and gloves 
from the chair) Yes, I know it has; I just came in 
a few minutes ago. 

FLoRENCE. You had tickets for the theatre, didn’t 

ou? 
HossEFrosseE. (Stepping back through the right 
door again) Yes. 

FiorENcE. Why not take me—for a change? 
(The door closes.) You used to—years ago. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to Mrs. Ree 
and Mrs. SHEPPARD) Paula, Clara says she thinks 
she saw Mr. Ritter out there tonight. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Standing at the left) My dear, 
Jenny just told me over the telephone that he re- 
gained consciousness a half-hour after I left the 
house, and went out. Said she thought from the 
way he talked he was coming here. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (In the center) Yes, I was 


140 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


sure I saw him standing out there—— (Turning 
to Mrs. Ritter.) I was just telling Betty. 

Mrs. Ritter. I wonder if he’s out there yet. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. I don’t know, dear. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. How much of the play did 
you see, Clara? 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Why, I stayed just as long as I 
could, Betty. But when Paula came on, and I heard 
those lines of mine again, I just couldn’t stand it. 
(She breaks down, and buries her face in her hand- 
kerchtef.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Laying her hand on her arm) 
I know, Clara—you’re such an artist. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Pressing her hands against her 
bosom) Everything just seemed to come back on 
me. 

Mrs. PaMPpineLii. I know how it is, dear. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Speaking directly to Mrs. 
PaMPINELLI) I got thinking how Jimmy would 
feel, if he could know, that he was the cause of 
standing in the way of my first real opportunity. 
(She cries again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Raising her eyes to Heaven) 
Perhaps he does know, dear. 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Turning to her again) I mean, 
you know, he was always so anxious about my get- 
ting into the work. And, somehow or other, I al- 
ways felt—that I could have done so much with that 
part. (Mrs. RITTER gives a vague little laugh, and 
Mrs. SHEPPARD turns to her quickly.) Oh, of 
course, you were perfectly adorable in it, darling. I 
don’t mean that (The left door opens, and 
FLORENCE 1s standing in it, about to come out.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Yo Mrs. Pamprneut, Mrs. Rit-~ 
TER and Mrs. SHEPPARD) Shush! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning and going closer to 
the left door) Excuse me, Clara. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 141 


Mrs. SHEPPARD. Certainly, dear. (TWILLER 
comes forward at the right.) 

FLorENCE. (Stepping through the door) By the 
way, there was a Mr. Robinson telephoned this 
morning, after you’d left the house—— (Mrs. 
SHEPPARD waves her handkerchief at FLORENCE, 
and FLORENCE replies by quietly flicking her fingers 
at her. Then, still keeping in her character, she 
moves slowly toward the right, leaving the door open 
behind her.) He said something about a list being 
correct. 

HosseFrossE. (Appearing in the doorway, carry- 
ing his hat, cane and gloves) Yes, I know. (He 
reaches toward the left, beyond the flats, as though 
he'were pushing an electric-light button, then thrusts 
his head through the door and says in a fierce whis- 
per) Lights. 

Fiorence. Lights out! 


(Mrs, Fett and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


Mrs, Fett. Put out the lights, somebody ! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Lights, Mr. Stage Manager! 
(The stage manager appears from the left, at the 
back.) 

SPINDLER. (Springing from the left, where he 
has been engaged in trying to repair the telephone 
battery) Lights out! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Where are you? (The stage 
manager reaches up and pulls one of the switches on 
the switchboard at the back, and the lights beyond 
the flats go out; then he disappears again at the left.) 


(SPINDLER and HosseFrossE together.) 


SPINDLER. I was right here! 
HossEFRossE. (Coming through the door) Yes, 


142 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


I know. (Closing the door behind lim.) 1 
talked to him. (Puts his hat on.) 

Mrs. PamMpPINneLLI. Well, why aren’t you right 
here, where you should be? Stand by for the cur- 
tain, now,—see if you can do that much right. 
Surely, it’s the old story of the lark,—if you want a 
thing done, do it yourself! Curtain! 

SPINDLER. (Shouting) Curtain! (The curtain, 
beyond the flats, begins to roll down, and there is 
thunderous applause.) 

Mrs. Fett. (To FLorENcE) Marvelous, dar- 
ling! (FLORENCE waves at her, turns, and rushes 
back toward the left.) Just lovely, Huxley! 

HossErrossE. Thanks. (He turns to the left.) 

Mrs. PAaMPINELLI. Lights up! Splendid, chil- 
dren! 

FLoreNnce. I’m awfully glad to see you, Clara! 


(Mrs. SHEPPARD, Mrs. PAMPINELLI, HOSSEFROSSE 
and SPINDLER together.) 


Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Shaking hands with FLORENCE) 
You were wonderful, Flossie! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Take up the curtain, Mr. 
Stage Manager! 

HosserrosseE. Thank you very much. 

SPINDLER. Lights up! (The stage manager ap- 
pears from the left and pulls the switch again, and 
the lights beyond the flats go on.) 

SPINDLER. Take it up! (The stage manager darts 
off again to the left. The waltz music on the piano, 
beyond the flats, begins again.) 

HosseFrosseE. (Lifting his hat and beaming) 
Hello, Clara! 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Wonderful! (He deprecates 
profusely. The curtain rises again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Go on, Mr. Hossefrosse! 
(He opens the right door, removing his hat.) Wait 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 143 


a moment, Mr. Hossefrosse! Come on, Florence! 
(HossEFrossE stops uncertainly in the doorway and 
looks at Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) It’s all right! Go on! 
(She opens the left door.) Here, go on here, Flor- 
ence! (They go on, bowing, and there is prolonged 
applause.) Come on, Paula, goon here! (The cur- 
tain descends again. Pauta scurries to the left 
door, giggling.) Where’s Mr. Twiller? 

Twitter. (Springing over from the right, where 
he has been talking and laughing with Mrs. FELL.) 
Here I am! 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Turning to the left) Take 
it up again, Mr. Stage Manager! (Turning back to 
TwILter, and opening the door.) Here, Mr. Twil- 
ler, take Paula on! (The curtain can be seen 
through the left door rising again.) Come on, Paula! 
(Twitter drops his cane, in shifting it from his 
right hand to his left.) Hurry up! (He snatches 
the cane up, and, taking PauLa by the arm, escorts 
her through the door. But she trips over the door- 
strip, nevertheless. And there is sustained applause. 
Mrs. FELL, over at the right, begins to preen herself 
feverishly. Mrs. PAMPINELLI closes the door slow- 
ly, and stands listening, smiling. TEDDY appears up 
at the left and comes forward, pressing his violet 
handkerchief to his brow, and looking very wan. 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns to him.) Come on, Teddy, 
hurry up! They’re just going on! How do you 
feel? (The curtain descends.) 

Teppy. Only fair. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Taking him by the right arm 
and urging him toward the right) Here, Nelly, go 
on for a bow with Teddy! (Rushing back toward 
the left.) . Take it up again, Mr. Stage Manager! 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI, TEDDY and SPINDLER together.) 


Mrs. PaMPINELLI. Mr. Spindler! 


144 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Teppy. (Opening the right door) Come on, 
Nelly! 

SPINDLER. (Half-way back, at the left) Take it 
up! (Rushing forward at the left) Yes? 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and Mrs. FELL together.) 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Yo SPINDLER) Keep it go- 
ing up and down till I tell you to stop! And keep 
it up the next time till the gentlemen get the flowers! 

Mrs. Fett. (Shrinking away a litile more to the 
right of the door, but still preening herself, almost 
hysterically, and breaking into a little nervous laugh ) 
Oh, no, really, dear! I wouldn’t think of it! (TxEp- 
py goes through the right door. The curtain can be 
seen rising again; then the door closes after him; 
and Mrs. Fett continues talking, to herself.) Why, 
what have I done that I should go on? I wouldn’t 
mind if I’d taken some part in the play,—but I cer- 
tainly don’t see 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Rushing back to the right) 
Go on, Nelly! what are you waiting for? (The cur- 
tain descends again. Mrs. FELL rushes toward Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI. ) 

Mrs. Fett. (Handing Mrs. PAMPINELLI the 
rolled manuscript) Hold this! 

Mrs. PamMpPINELLI. Hurry, dear! (Mrs. Ferry 
rushes to the right door, settles herself finally, and 
flings the door open. The curtain is just rising. 
And, placing one hand upon her bosom, dropping her 
eves and smiling, NELLY sways through the door, 
acknowledging the plaudits. Mrs. PAMPINELLI, 
standing in the middle of the stage, applauds, also, 
hitting the manuscript against her hand. The door 
closes after Mrs. Fett. Mrs. SHEPPARD, over at 
the left, suddenly bursts into tears and buries her 
face in her handkerchief. Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns 


SUAUVAG-HOUOT, AH I,, 


x 
< 
a 
Ss 
z 
S 
Fe 


“THE 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 145 


quickly and looks at her, then crosses toward her.) 
Do you want to take a bow, Clara? 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. Oh, no, thank you! (Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI turns back to the left door.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Get those flowers, boys! 
Keep it up, Mr. Stage Manager! Come on, Clara! 
go on for a bow! (Reaches: for Mrs. SHEPPARD'S 
hand. ) 

Mrs, SHEPPARD. (Giving Mrs. PAMPINELLI her 
hand, and allowing herself to be drawn toward the 
right) Do you think they’d understand, Betty? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Of course, they would, my 
dear! They know it isn’t your fault that you’re not 
appearing! (Mrs. Fett thrusts open the right door. 
She has a basket of roses in her hand.) 

Mrs. Fett. They’re calling for you, Betty! 
(Someone in the audience can be heard calling Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI'’s name.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI: Here, Nelly, take Clara on 
for a bow! 

Mrs. Fett. (Impatiently) They’re calling for 
you, dear! (Mrs. SHEPPARD hastily throws her veil 
back, dramatically. ) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I'll take one alone, after- 
ward! (The applause sweils again.) Go on, Clara! 

Mrs. Fett. (Extending her right hand) Come 
on, dear! 

Mrs. SHEPPARD. (Giving Mrs. Feri her left 
hand) Oh, I don’t feel that I should! (Mrs. FEety 
keeps the door open, and Ciara droops through, 
bowing. Then Mrs. Fett closes the door and Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI turns to the left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Keep it up, Mr. Spindler! 

SPINDLER. Keep it up! 

Hosserrosse. (Thrusting open the left door) 
Mrs. Pampinelli! (There ts a vision through the 
door of the various artists bowing toward the back 
wall, all the ladies laden with flowers.) 


146 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. All right, dear! I’m coming! 
(HossEFrrossE closes the door, and Mrs. PAmpt- 
NELLI deftly touches her hair and flings her train 
out to its full length behind her. Then she speaks 
in aloud voice, so that she may be heard by those on 
the other side of the flats) Everybody stand to one 
side! Stand to one side, everybody! (She pulls 
open the left door and stands, snuling ; then she steps 
through the door; and, instantly, the curtain falls 
with a deafening crash. The door closes after her. 
NELLY FELL gives a piercing scream. SPINDLER 
comes rushing down from the left to the left door.) 

Teppy. (Shouting, beyoud the flats) Curtain! 

HossEFrossE. Take up the curtain! 

Twitter. Take it up! (There is a babel of 
voices beyond the fiats. Then the left door is thrust 
violently open, and Mrs. PaMPINELLI looks out.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Harshly, to SPINDLER) 
What’s the matter with the curtain? 

SPINDLER. (Jn a panic of excitement) Some- 
thing’s broke! (The stage manager rushes on from 
the left and comes forward.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coming out through the door 
and calling to the stage manager, whom she hasn't 
seen yet) Take up the curtain, Mr. Stage Manager! 

StacE Manacer. I can’t take it up, the guy- 
rope’s broken! (He goes up.at the left.) 

Mrs. PaMpINeLLI. What? (Mrs. FELL comes 
running through the right door, carryimg her basket 
of flowers, and crosses toward ‘the left.) 


(Mrs. FELL and SPINDLER together.) 


Mrs. FELL. What is it, Betty? 

SPINDLER. (To Mrs. PAMPINELLI) He says 
the guy-rope’s broken! 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. (Brushing him aside, to the 


POP Sip ee 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 147 


left, and rushing up at the left) My God! did any- 
one ever hear of such stupidity! 


(Mrs. Pampinetyi, Mrs. FELL and SPINDLER to- 
gether.) 


Mrs. Pampinetti. I'll go on at the side here! 

Mrs. Fett. What’s the matter, Mr. Spindler? 

SPINDLER. (Shouting after Mrs. PAMPINELLI) 
He says he can’t get it up! (Mrs. SHEPPARD comes 
through the right doorway with an armload of 
American Beauty roses, and stands looking anxiously 
from side to side. TEppy follows her out and stands 
at her right, discussing the incident. FLORENCE 
opens the left door and comes out. Her arms are 
full of tiger-lilies. She moves to the right and 
Speaks to Mrs. SHEPPARD, nervously.) 

Stace Manacer. You can’t get through there. 
lady! (Twitter comes out the left door.) 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI and STAGE MANAGER together.) 


Mrs. PAmpINeLti. I must get through some- 
where! 

Stace MaAnacer. That tormentor’s too narrow 
there! 


(Mrs. PAMPINELLI, STAGE MANAGER and Mrs. 
FEtt together.) 


Mrs. PaMpINELLI. (Turning frantically and 
rushing forward again at the left) Ill try the other 
side! He says it’s too narrow there! 

Stace Manacer. I don’t know how you're go- 
ing to do it! 

Mrs. Fett. (As Mrs. PAMPINELLI sweeps be- 
tween her and SPINDLER) What is it he says is 
broken, Betty? (Mrs. PAMPINELLI rushes over to- 


148 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


ward the right. She literally sweeps TWILLER, who 
is in her path, out of the way, and he falls backward 
over a stage-brace, onto the floor. Mrs. FEL picks 
up her dress and runs after Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) 

SPINDLER. (Outrunning Mrs. Fett) The guy- 
rope! 

Mrs. Fett. Well, why doesn’t he fix it! Betty! 
Betty dear! (Mrs. PAMPINELLI rushes up at the ex- 
treme right and tries desperately to find a way of 
getting through; but everything is solidly masked. 
HOSSEFROSSE comes out the left door, and the stage 
manager comes forward at the left and stands look- 
ing after Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) 

HossEFrrossE, What’s the matter, can’t Mrs. Pam- 
pinelli get her bow? 

Stace MANAGER. She can’t get on any more from 
that side than she can from this! (HossEFROSSE 
steps out through the door and looks toward the 
right. The door closes after him.) There’s the same 
opening over there as there is here! (The applause 
beyond the flats, which has kept up throughout the 
debacle, begins to die. Mrs. PAMPINELLI comes 
sweeping back from the right with fire in her eye, — 
NELLY FELL and SPINDLER still at her heels. She 
plants herself in the middle of the stage and glares 
at the stage manager.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (In a voice shrill with anger) 
My God! what’s the matter with your curtain? 

Stace Manacer. (Losing his temper) The guy- 
rope’s broken! I’ve told you that about a dozen 
times! (He turns doggedly away to the left, as 
though he were going up to his chair; but he stops 
short and. finishes lis remarks to her over his left 
shoulder.) What do you want me to do, write you 
a letter? (The left door is pushed quietly open, and 
Mrs. RITTER, with her face just visible above a per- 
fect screen of roses, looks blankly at the stage man- 


ager. } 


a 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 149 


Mrs. Ritter. (Vaguely) There’s something the 
matter with the curtain. (The real stage curtain 
commences to descend.) 

StaGE Manacer. (Leaning toward her, assum- 
ing her general manner and tone, and flipping his 
; hand at her) Y-E-E-S! (He goes up toward his 
; chair, and Mrs, Ritter stands in wide-eyed aston- 
_ tshment.) 


END OF THE ACT 


ACT... UE 


Note.—The setting for Act III is the same as for 
Act I except that the small chair which JENNY 
brings on at the opening of the play is elim- 
nated. 


(JENNY is seated at the table below the piano, read- 
ing the “Pictorial Review.” The door closes out 
at the right. She stops reading and listens. 
Then resumes. RITTER wanders in from the 
right hallway, wearing a black overcoat and a 
derby. The derby is a bit over one eye and his 
cigar is at a comic angle. JENNY sees him and 
rises immediately, circling around to the left to 
the middle of the room.) 


Jenny. Oh, Mr. Ritter! (He comes into the 
center door and stands there, looking at nothing.) I 
didn’t hear you come in, sir. Is the show over? 

Ritter. (Removing his gloves) It’s all over 
town by this time. 

Jenny. (Standing slightly left of the center of 
the room, facing him) Mrs. Ritter just telephoned 
a minute ago. ! 

Ritter. Is she alive? 

Jenny. Alive, Mr. Ritter? 

Ritter. (Moving down to the table below the 
piano, and thrusting his gloves into his overcoat 
pocket) Because if she is, she’s got a charmed life. 
(Commencing to unfasten his coat.) The Seamen’s 
Institute! God help them on a night like this, 

150 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 151 


_ Jenny. She was anxious to know-if you were 
still unconscious. 

Ritter. (Taking off his overcoat) Ii she tele- 
phones again, tell her yes. (He is in a tuxedo suit.) 

Jenny. (Crossing to him and helping him with 
the coat) Ain’t you feelin’ well again, Mr. Ritter? 

Ritter. No, Jenny, I’m not. (He hands her 
his derby.) 

Jenny. (Taking the hat and coat to the partition- 
seat above the piano) Weil, I’m sure I’m sorry, 
sir. 

Ritter. (Removing his scarf) And after that 
exhibition tonight——I don’t think I ever shall feel 
exactly well again. 

ENNY. (Coming down at his left and passing 
back of him) Was it a sad play? 

Ritter. (Handing her his scarf, and speaking 
with measured conviction) The saddest thing I’ve 
ever seen in my life. 

Jenny. I allus cry when a show is sad. 

Ritter. Is that so? 

Jenny. Yes, sir; anda funny thing about me is— 
the sadder it is the more I cry. 

Ritter. You'd have had a big night if you’d been 
with me. (She passes back of him with the scarf, 
- to put tt with the other things.) You'd better leave 
those things here, Jenny. I may leave town again 
tonight. 

Jenny. Tl leave them right here. (She turns 
from an arrangement of the things and comes for- 
ward to the middle of the room.) Did they clap 
much when Mrs. Ritter finished? 

Ritter. (Still standing above the table near the 
piano, clipping the tip of a cigar which he has taken 
from his pocket) 1 didn’t wait for the finish; they 
carried me out. 

Jenny. I’m dyin’ till she gets home, for I know 
’ 


152 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


exactly how she felt. (He looks at her keenly—she 
is looking straight ahead.) 

Ritter. Have you been on the stage, too, Jenny? 

Jenny. (Turning to him) No, sir, I haven’t, Mr. 
Ritter, not lately. But when I was at home in Eng- 
land I used to go on every once in a while. For a 
bit of a change, you know. 

Ritter. Yes, I know. 

Jenny. We had a little club in the town I lived 
in, and we used to give a show twice a year. (Rit- 
TER nods slowly and comprehendingly.) I always 
took off the comical parts. 

Ritter. How is it they didn’t get you into this 
show tonight ? 

Jenny. Oh, I haven’t been on for a long time 
now, Mr. Ritter. My husband puta stop to it. (She 
looks away off.) 

Ritter. (Turning to her) What was the mat- 
ter? 

Jenny. (Turning to him, suddenly) He died. 

Ritter. (Replacing his penknife) I see. 

Jenny. And I never felt much like cuttin’ up 
after that. (The telephone-bell rings. She turns 
quickly and starts for the center door.) 

Ritter. (Moving over toward the mantelpiece ) 
See who that is, Jenny. 

JENNY. (Hurrying out into the left hallway) 
Yes, sir. : 

Ritter. (Getting a match from the table below 
the mantelpiece) Anybody for me, I’ve gone into 
permanent retirement. 

Jenny. (At the telephone) Yes? (He listens 
narrowly.) Mr. Ritter? (He makes a rapid move- 
ment toward her.) Oh, Mrs. Ritter? 

Ritter. (In a subdued tone) Who do they 
want? 

Jenny. (Into the telephone) No, ma’m, she 


4 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 153 


hasn’t got home yet. (Lowering the telephone and 
speaking to RitTER) Mrs. Ritter. 

Ritter. (Casually) Who is it, the police? (He 
lights his cigar.) 

Jenny. (Into the telephone) All right, Mrs. Liv- 
ingston, I’ll give her your message as soon as she 
comes in. You’re more than welcome, I’m sure. 
(She hangs up and comes to the center door.) 

Ritter. (Looking at her) Mrs. Livingston? 

Jenny. Yes, sir. 

Ritter. What did she want? 

Jenny. She sez she wanted to congratulate Mrs. 
Ritter on her perfect performance tonight. 

Ritrer. Did she see the show? 

Jenny. She didn’t say, sir. 

Ritter. (Conclusively, and crossing in front of 
her down to the window at the right) She didn’t see 
it. If any of those women come back here with 
Mrs. Ritter, Jenny,—say that I’m not home yet, do 
you understand? 

Jenny. (Settling the overcoat on the partition- 
seat) Yes, sir. 

Ritter. (Looking through the window) And that 
you haven’t seen anything of me. 

Jenny. Yes, sir, Mr. Ritter, all right. 

Ritter. If my wife’s alone, let me know as soon 
as she comes in. 

Jenny. Yes, sir, I will. (The telephone-bell 
rings, and she hurries out to answer it.) 

Ritter. (Half turning from the window) You 
haven’t seen anything of me, remember. 

Jenny. No, sir. (Into the telephone) Yes, sir? 
(He listens, without turning.) No, sir, she hasn’t got 
home yet. (She lowers the telephone and looks at 
him, wide-eyed. He feels that she’s looking at him 
and turns suddenly.) 

Ritter. (Taking a step toward her, below the 
piano) What is it? 


154 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Jenny. (Into the telephone) No, sir, he hasn’t 
got home yet neither. 

Ritter. (Apprehensively) Do they want me? 
(She nods yes.) Who is it? (She nods that she 
doesn’t know.) Police Headquarters, I'll bet a ten 
dollar note! (He crosses down below the table at the 
left and around up to the mantelpiece.) Tell them 
that I had absolutely nothing to do with her going on! 
That I didn’t hear about it until last night! (He 
crosses back again down toward the table below the 
piano.) And that I’ve been unconscious ever sitice. 

Jenny. (Into the telephone) The Times? 

Ritter. (Stopping above the table) My God, the 
newspapers have got hold of it! 

JENNY. (Into the telephone) Well, just a min- 
ute, please. 

Ritter. (Turning suddenly to her) Tell them 
she did it on a bet! 

Jenny. The Times newspaper wants to know if 
Mrs. Ritter has a full-length photograph of herself 
for the morning paper. 

Ritter. (Emphatically, and going out through 
the center door into the right hallway and up the 
stairs) Tell them NO! 

Jenny. (Into the telephone) Hello. 

Ritter. But that she'll have some taken as soon 
as she gets out of jail. (He goes through the arched 
doorway at the head of the stairs.) 

Jenny. (Into the telephone) Why, I couldn’t 
say, sir, whether Mrs. Ritter has a photograph of 


herself or not, sir; but I’ll give her your message as 


soon as she comes in. 

Mrs. PAmpINeELLi. (Jn the right hallway) Hurry, 
Theodore. 

Jenny. (Still at the telephone) You're more 
than welcome, I’m sure. (She hangs up and hurries 
tm through the center door, glancmg out the right 
hallway as she comes and, gathering up MR. RITTER’S 


ee 


a 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 155 


overcoat, derby and scarf, hurries over above the 
table at the left and out.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (In the right hallway) Be 
careful of those jonquils. Now, be careful, Theo- 
dore! Now go back and fetch the others. (Coming 
into view, and seeing JENNY coming in again at the 
left door.) Oh, you’re up, Jenny, aren’t you? (She 
comes through the center door, carrying her fan and 
an armload of orchids and red chrysanthemums, and 
wearing an enormous flowing cape of ruffled black 
lace, touched all over with tiny circular sequins in 
gold. Her dress, of course, is the ruby velvet one of 
the preceding act.) 

Jenny. Yes, ma’m, I’m up. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Hastening to the table below 


the piano) I’m so glad; I hope I haven’t roused you. 


(She puts her fan on the piano and sets all the flow- 
ers down on the table.) Will you go out and get 
those flowers from my chauffeur, Jenny? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Arranging the flowers on the 
table) He’s set them right down there in the hall- 
way. I came right on in when I found the door un- 
locked; I was afraid you’d be asleep. 

Jenny. No, ma’m, I was waitin’ up. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Sweeping around to her left 
and up to the center door) Well, that’s perfectly 
angelic of you, I’m sure. (She stands on the left 
side of the center door and looks out into the right 
hallway.) Can you manage, dear? 

Jenny. (Appearing from the right) I think so. 
(She struggles through the center door carrying an 
enormous horseshoe, made of red and white carna- 
tions and ferns. It is at least four feet high, set upon 
an easel, and across the front of tt is a strip of white- 
satin ribbon ten inches wide with the word “SUC- 
CESS” inscribed upon it in blue-velvet letters. She 
ts also carrying a huge basket of jonquils, and a star 


156 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


made of white pansies. This last touch is fastened, 
upon a violet easel.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Let me help you, child. (She 
takes the basket of jonquils and the star of pansies 
from Jenny.) Now, set that right down there. 
(She indicates a point in front of the mantelpiece for 
the horseshoe, and JENNY crosses in front of her 
with it.) I want Mrs. Ritter to see it first, when 
she comes in,—it’s so appropriate. (She sets the 
basket of jonquils on the piano.) I suppose we can 
put these down anywhere here until she comes, can’t 
we? (She sets the easel of pansies down on the floor 
at the right of the table below the piano.) 

Jenny. (Having set the horseshoe down in front 
of the mantelpiece) This way, Mrs. Pampinelli? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. No, dear; facing the door. 

Jenny. Oh, I see. (She turns it round facing 
the center door.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. That’s it. I want it to catch 
her eye as she comes in. And now will you go back 
and fetch the others, Jenny? 

Jenny. (Hurrying out through the center door) 
Yes, ma’m. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Gathering up the chrysan- 
themums from the table) And these chrysanthe- 
mums (She sweeps across toward the mantel- 
piece and turns to her left, strewing the chrysanthe- 
mums through the center door and down toward the 
table at the left.) ll just strew in her pathway. 
(JENNY comes in from the right hallway carrying a 
huge anchor of vivid red roses, with a broad band 
of navy-blue ribbon running diagonally across it, and 
the words “SEAMEN’S INSTITUTE” in white- 
velvet letters. She stands right in the center door, 
holding it, waiting for instructions as to its dispo- 
sition from Mrs. PamMpPINELLI. But Mrs. Pampt- 
NELLI is lost in admiration of it, standing just to the 
left of the center door.) Now, set that right down 


» 


ee 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 187 


here, Jenny. (She indicates a point at the extreme 
left, below the door, and JENNY hastens to place it 
there, setting 1t down half-facing-the center door; | 
and Mrs. PAMPINELLI stands up at the center door 
admiring it.) Hope! (JENNY turns to her and gives 
a faint little laugh.) Hope, for the success—(She 
indicates the horseshoe wnth a gesture )—of our en- 
terprise. (They both laugh, and Mrs, PAMPINELLI 
steps quickly down to the table below the piano and 
picks up the orchids.) And these orchids, I think I 
shall just put right here on this table. (She crosses 
to the table below the casement-window and puts 
them down; then straightens up and sighs.) Ho, 
dear me, I’m warm! (She crosses back between the 
piano and the table below it, picking up her fan as 
she goes.) 

Jenny. (Moving up and across back of the table 
at the left, toward the center of the room) ’Tisa bit 
warm. ; 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Fanning herself, as she 
moves toward the middle of the room) And then I 
hurried so,—foolishly. 

Jenny. Did everything go along all right? 

Mrs. PampineLyi. Magnificently, my dear child! 
And Mrs. Ritter was a positive sensation, 

Jenny. Did she get all these flowers? 

Mrs. PaMpPINELLI. (Deprecatingly) Ho! This 
isn’t the half of them! We sent three automobiles 
full to the various hospitals. And Mrs. Fell’s car 
was still taking them when I left. (Jenny shakes 
her head from side to side in wonderment.) These 
are just a few that we rescued for Mrs. Ritter. (She 
moves toward the center door.) Sort of a little sur- 
prise for her, you know, when she gets home. (She 
stands looking out into the right hallway, expec- 
tantly.) 

Jenny. They’re certainly ’andsome. 


158 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. She doesn’t even know that 
I’ve brought them. 

Jenny. Is she comin’ right home, do you know, 
Mrs. Pampinelli? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to JENNY) Why, 
I expect her, yes. I was afraid she’d get here ahead 
of me. She was waiting for Mr. Ritter. (Coming 
forward a little.) We heard at the hall that he was 
there, and she thought probably he’d come back and 
pick her up. He hasn’t come home, has he? 

Jenny. No, ma’m, I haven’t seen anything of 
him. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Laughing a little, indulgent- 
ly, securing a hairpin, and moving over toward the 
right) Poor man! His wife’s success has very 
likely gone to his head. (She glances out the win- 
dow.) 

Jenny. He went out of here about eight o’clock. 

Mrs. PamPINELLI. (Turning and coming back 
toward JENNY) Yes, we were so surprised to hear 
that he was there at all. Because Mrs. Ritter had 
said that he hadn’t regained consciousness up to the 
time she left the house. 

Jenny. He hadn't, neither. I thought I ’ad two 
’eads on me when I came in and saw him puttin’ on 
is ’at and coat. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, did he seem all right? 

Jenny. Yes, he seemed right enough; but he was 
awful pale-lookin’. And a couple a times I spoke to 
im, he gave me kind of a funny answer. So I gota 
bit frightened, you know; and I asked ‘im if he 
knew where he was goin’. And he said, “Yes,” that 
he was goin’ to see “The Torch-Bearers.” Kind a 
flightly, you know. 

Mrs, PaAMPINELLI. Well, he would be, naturally. 

Jenny. So then,—when he got to the door, he 
turned around—and he sez to me—“Jenny!—if you 


ee me 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 159 


never see me again,—I want you to know I died ir 
the cause of Art.”—And he went out. 

Mrs. PAmpineLLI. He was probably rambling a 
bit. 

Jenny. But he walked straight enough. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning suddenly to the 
center door) I think I hear a machine, Jenny. 

Jenny. (Stepping across quickly below the table 
to the casement-window) I'll see. 

Mrs. Pampinetii. Do quickly, dear. 

Jenny. Is Mrs. Fell comin’ back tonight? 

Mrs. Pampinetii. (Looking out eagerly into the 
right hallway) Yes, she’s bringing the rest of the 
flowers. -I’ve sent my car back for her. 

Jenny. (Turning abruptly from the window and 
hurrying across below the piano toward the center 
door) Here’s Mrs. Ritter now! 

Mrs. PAmMPINELLI. Is Mr. Ritter with her? (In- 
tercepting JENNY.) No, don’t go out, Jenny! I 
want to hear what they say when they see the flowers. 
(Turning her round by the shoulder and indicating 
the door down at the left.) You go into the other 
room there, and I'll hide here (She moves for- 
ward at the right and across below the piano)—in 
this window. 

Jenny. (Hurrying toward the door at the left) 
All right, ma’m. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Stopping near the window 
and turning to JENNY) And, Jenny, dear! 

Jenny. (Turning at the left door) Yes, ma’m? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Don’t come out—until you 
hear me say “SURPRISE!” 

Jenny. All right, Mrs. Pampinelli, I won't. 
(Mrs. PamprINnettt steps into the alcove of the win- 
dow, then turns again to JENNY.) 

Mr.s PamprineLytr. Now, remember, Jenny— 
SURERISE!? 

Jenny. Yes, I know. (She closes the door, and 


160 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI conceals herself behind the win- 
dow-drapery. There is a slight pause; then Mrs. 
Ritter hurries in from the right hallway, carrying 
a marvelous bouquet of American Beauty roses. She 
comes in through the center door and stands, look- 
ing, with a touch of astomshment, at the horseshoe. 
Then her eyes wander down to the anchor; and then 
over to the easel at the right. She is gowned nm a 
very pale shade of gray lace, with gray silk slippers 
and stockings; and around her head she is wearing 
a wreath of laurel in gold, touched with brilhants. 
Her cloak 1s of black chiffon velvet, with a cape col- 
lar of black fox. She slides this cloak from her 
shoulders onto the partition-seat at the right, and 
starts across toward the door at the left.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Opening the door) Are you up, 
Jenny? Jenny! (She closes the door again and 
crosses above the table at the left and over to the 
one below the piano. Here she sets down a few of 
the roses, then decides there is not sufficient room 
for all of them, and starts across to the table at the 
left. RitTEeR appears at the head of the stairs and 
starts down slowly. She sees him, and stops dead.) 
Fred! (She moves up toward the left of the center 
door.) You don’t mean to tell me you’ve been home 
here,—and there I’ve been waiting at the hall since 
before ten o’clock. (He wanders in through the cen- 
ter door and leans against the piano, holding a lighted 
cigar in his hand.) Why didn’t you come back for 
me? Irene Colter had to bring me home. (She 
starts to cry.) Clara Sheppard told me she saw you 
there, so, naturally, I waited for you. And when 
you didn’t come back, why, of course, right away—lI 
thought something had happened to you. (She cries 
into her handkerchief.) 

Ritter. (Without moving, and in a toneless 
voice) Something has happened to me. (She looks 
at him apprehensively.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 161 


Mrs. Ritter. What happened to you, Fred? 

Ritter. (Stonily, and moving down and across 
below the piano) I’ve seen you act. 

Mrs. Ritter. What? (He ratses his left hand 
solemnly and continues to the corner of the piano 
nearest the window, where he leans. She moves 
down a bit after him.) What’s the matter, Fred,— 
did you have another of those spells that you had 
last night? 

Ritter. Yes; only a great deal worse. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, isn’t that dreadful! What do 
you think it is, dear? 

Ritter. (Turning slightly, and glancing at the 
violet easel and over at the anchor) I don’t know 
what itis. It looks like a wake tome. Who’s dead? 

Mrs. Ritter. Dead? 

Ritter. What are all these flowers doing here? 

Mrs. Ritter. Why, I imagine some of the ladies 
have been here from the show—to fix up a little 
surprise for me. 

Ritter. They should have lighted a few candles, 
and completed the effect. 

Mrs. Ritter. But these are just presents, Fred, 
from friends of ours. 

Ritter. (Straightening up, and moving across 
below the table) They are tokens of sympathy, that’s 
what they are. (He crosses up and over above the 
table at the left.) 

Mrs, Ritter. (Following him over) But there’s 
nobody dead, dear! , 

Ritter. (Raising his left hand solemnly again) 
Oh, yes there is! Oh, yes! 

Mrs. Ritter. Really, dear! (He turns, just back 
of the armchair, and pins her with a look.) 

Ritter. You're dead. (She stands perfectly still, 
looking at him, wide-eyed.) You died tonight— 
~ down there on that stage at Horticultural Hall. And 
so did everybody that was up there with you. 


\ 
162 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Ritter, (With a troubled, uncomprehend- 
ing expression) Why, how could I be dead, dear,— 
when I’m here,—talking to you? (He stands look- — 
ing straight ahead, smoking. She bursts out crying, 
and turns to the partition-seat at the right of the cen- 
ter door.) Oh, Fred! it’s terrible to see lel this 
way! 

Ritter. (Sweeping his hand across hie brow and 
starting across below the table toward the right) The 
human brain can only stand so much. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Setting her roses down on the par- 
tition-seat) You’ve just been working yourself to 
death! But nobody could tell you anything! (She 
starts out into the left hallway for the telephone.) 

Ritter. (Stopping over near the window and 
turning) What are you going to do? 

Mrs. Ritrer. (Turning to him) Why, I’m go- 
ing to call Doctor Wentworth, of course. 

Ritter. What for? 

Mrs. Ritter. Why, because you need him! 

Ritter. (Taking a step or two toward her, be- 
tween the piano and the table below # ) I -won’t see 
any doctor, now! 

Mrs. Ritter. (Coming back lin achl the center 
door) Now,—listen, Fred 

Ritter. (Raising his hand, and crossing to the 
- left) I won’t see any doctor, I tell you—there’s 
nothing he can do for me—(He stops above the arm- 
chair at the left and rests his hand upon the back of 
it)—it’s all been done. There’s nothing left for me 
but to get out of town. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Following him over) Well, just 
let him come over and see you, dear. 

Ritter. What would I let him come over and see 
me for? There’s nothing the matter with me. 

Mrs. Ritter. Why, you’re as pale as a ghost! 

Ritter. That’s nothing—lI’ve had a scare. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 163 


Mrs. Ritter. (Solicitously) What scared you, 
dear? (He turns and looks at.her.) 

Ritter. I was afraid every minute somebody was 
going to shoot you. 

Mrs. Ritter. (After a bewildered pause) But 
why should anybody shoot me, darling? 

Ritter. For trying to act. (He moves forward 
and across in front of the table, to the right,—she 
watching him blankly) Making a laughing-stock of 
yourselves in front of the community. 

Mrs. Ritter. Didn’t you like me, Fred? 

Ritrer. (Casually, as he nears the window) I 
did till I saw you act. (He turns around to his right 
and leans on the piano. She moves over toward the 
table below the piano.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Rather helplessly, as the situation 
dawns upon her) Why, Mrs. Pampinelli said I was 
a great artist. 

Ritter. (With vast amusement) Ha! (Then he 
looks at his wife and speaks very exactly) Mrs, 
Pampinelli is perhaps the world’s greatest NUT. 
(Mrs. PaMPINeELLi, standing back in the window- 
alcove at the right, in a state of puzzled irresolution, 
reacts, physically, to this last observation, causing an 
abrupt movement of the drapery. But, neither Rir- 
TER nor his wife are looking in that direction at the. 
moment. ) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Laying the remaining roses on the 
table) She says I ought to go on with the work. 

Ritter. (Dryly) She meant the housework. 
(He replaces his cigar in his mouth.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking at him with a touch of 
resentment) No, she didn’t mean anything of the 
kind, She says I ought to go to New York. (He 
takes the cigar from his mouth and looks at her 
keenly.) 

Ritter. And what would you do when you'd get 
there ? 


164 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Ritter. Why, I’d go on the stage, of course. 

Ritter. (Very level) How? 

Mrs. Ritter. Why, I’d go to the people that ris dh 
charge of it. 

Ritter. And, do you think they’d put you on the 
stage simply because you wanted to go on it? 

Mrs. Rrrrer. Well, Mrs. Pampinelli could give 
me a letter 

Ritter. Hum! 

Mrs. Ritter. So that I’d have it when I’d get 
there. 


Ritter. That’d do you a lot of good. You'd find _ 


a thousand there ahead of you, with letters from 
Mrs. Pampinellis. Nobody in New York knows 
Mrs. Pampinelli; and if they did, it’d probably fill 
any chance that a person might have otherwise. 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI can contain herself no longer. 
She flips the window-drapery aside with a deft 
movement and stands looking at RITTER, from a 
great height. Mrs. Ritter, who is facing the win- 
dow, utters an abrupt shriek of astonishment. Then 
Ritter turns, rather casually, to see the cause of his 
wife's agitation, and finds himself looking into the 
frozen eyes of Mrs. PAMPINELLI. He regards her 
rather impersonally, and then quietly reaches up and 
secures his collar and tie. She steps majestically 
from the window-alcove and moves a bit nearer to 
him, still holding him with an icy stare.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (After a devastating pause) 
You creature. 

RitTER. (Turning smoothly away, to his left, as 
though he had been suddenly struck by something, 
in the right eye.) Another actress. (He moves 
along a few steps to the left, in front of the table, 
then turns and speaks to Mrs. PAMPINELLI over his 
left shoulder.) What did you do, come through the 
window? 


1 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 165 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I’ve been hiding here. 

Ritter. (Resuming his walk over to the left) I 
don’t blame you,—after that show; I’ve been doing 
the same thing myself. (He sits in the armchair over 
at the left.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Who has been standing in a panic 
in the middle of the room, staring wide-eyed at Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI) Oh, Mrs. Pampinelli,—you didn’t 
hear what he’s been saying? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Every word. (She very re- 
gally deposits her fan upon the piano, and Mrs. Rit- 
TER, turning to RiTTER, makes a long, moaning 
sound.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Now, Fred Ritter, you see what 
you've done! (She bursts into tears, and comes down 
to the chair at the left of the table below the piano 
and sits down.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Moving to a point above the 
table) And I wouldn’t have missed it. Ill know 
how to regard this gentleman in the future. I came 
home hurriedly with these few flowers as a little 
acknowledgment of the appreciation your work de- 
served ; and all I hear is abuse; and a very crude but 
very venemous attempt at satire. (Mrs. Ritter 
weeps aloud.) Control yourself, darling. I wouldn’t 
please him. 

Ritter. (Quietly) She’s acting again. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Withering him with a glance) 
You barbarian! (To Mrs. Ritter) Pull yourself 
together, dear. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, I just can’t, Mrs. Pampinelli. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Addressing RITTER directly, 
and indicating Mrs. Ritter) Look at the state of 
emotion you’ve got this poor girl into! 

Ritter. She’s an emotional actress. (Mrs. Rit- 
TER bursts forth again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Savage! (To Mrs. RITTER) 
Let me get you something, darling. 


166 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. Ritter. Call Jenny. 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. Yes, dear. (She crosses to 
a point just to the left of the middle of the room, 
then stops and calls toward the door at the left) 
Jenny dear, SURPRISE! (Ru«tTTeER listens, with a 
puzeled expression.) Come here, Jenny,—SUR- 
PRISE! (RITTER turns around in the chair, to his 
right, and looks at her curiously. She meets his eyes 
with steady bitterness. Then he shifts his gaze to 
his wife.) 

Ritter. Why didn’t you take your make-up off? 

Mrs. Ritter. I forgot it—I was so worried about 
you. 

Ritter. You look like a Dutch ‘Squaw. (She 
bursts into tears again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Hastening over to her) Let 
her alone! Don’t mind him, Paula. 

Ritter. She’s all made up! and it’s coming off. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, what if it is? 

Ritter. (Settling back into the armchair) I 
don’t want to be reminded of that show. (JENNY 
enters hurriedly from the door at the left.) 

Mrs. PamMpPINELLI. Mrs. Ritter is ill, Jenny. 


(JENNY comes quickly across, above the table at the 


left.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Half turning to her) My smell- 
ing-salts, Jenny. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Standing back of Mrs. Rir- 
TER) Her smelling-salts, dear. - 

Jenny. (Hurrying out through the center door) 
Yes, ma’m. 

Mrs. Ritter. They’re in my bureau-basket. 

Mrs. PAMpPINELLI. (Turning and calling after 
Jenny.) In her bureau-basket, Jenny. 

Jenny. (Running up the stairs) Yes, mam, I 
know where they are. \, 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Gathering up the roses from 


® 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 167 


the table) Let me take these flowers out of your 
way, dear. You’ve been treated abominably. Al- 
though your husband’s attitude is entirely consistent 
with that of the average husband’s, after his wife 
has distinguished herself. (RITTER makes a little 
sound of amusement, and she glares at him.) And 
any observations of Mr. Ritter’s to the contrary, you 
did distinguish yourself tonight, Paula. (She turns 
to her right and puts the roses on the piano.) 

Ritter. (Sitting away down in the armchair, 
smoking) So did the Cherry Sisters. (Mrs. Rit- 
TER weeps again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning back again from the 
piano to Mrs. Ritter) We are noi talking to you 
at all, sir. (Mrs. Ritter has a slight coughing 
spell.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Will you get me a drink of water, 
please? 

- Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Certainly, darling, where is 
it? 

Mrs. Ritter. You'll find it just inside the break- 
fast-room. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI sails across the room 
toward the left door. Just as she is passing back of 
RittEr’s chair, he turns and looks at her, and the 
excessive grandeur of her manner causes him to 
burst out laughing. But she simpy freezes him with 
a look and goes out through the left door. He con- 
tinues to laugh; and Mrs. R1tTER, not having seen 
the cause of his laughter, stops crying and turns and 
looks at him, very troubled.) Fred Ritter, you’re 
acting to me tonight—just like a man that’d be losing 
his mind! (He looks over at her.) I really thought 
that was what was the matter with you when I first 
came in! 

Ritter. (Very confidentially) Listen: When I 
didn’t lose my mind watching that show tonight, I 
couldn’t go nutty if I tried. 

Mrs. Ritter. Well, if anybody else comes here 


268 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


tonight, you just keep that kind of talk to yourself. 
There were lots of people there that thought it was 
wonderful. Look at all these flowers. 

Ritter. These flowers were all paid for long be- 
fore anybody saw that show. (There is a staccato 
tap at the front doorbell. JENNY 1s hurrying down 
the stairs with the smelling-salts. ) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Rising, and trying to fix herself 
up a bit) Well, that’s only your opinion. (She 
staris for the center door.) ‘This is very likely Nelly 
Fell. (Turning back to him as she nears the center 
door.) Now, don’t you say anything to her, remem- 
ber! She likes you. 

Mrs. Fett. (In the right hallway) No, I think 
I can manage, Theodore. (JENNY hands Mrs. Rit- 
TER the smelling-salts, at the center door.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Thanks, Jenny. 

Jenny. You're welcome. (She hurries out into 
the right hallway, and Mrs. RitTER comes forward 
to the chair below the piano, sniffing the salts. Rit- 
TER rises and saunters a and up to the left of 
the armchair. ) 

Mrs. Fett. You can close that door, if you will! 
Couldn’t wait for you, Jenny! (She rushes in from 
the right hallway.) I’m too much excited! (She 
plants herself in the center door, holding aloft in her 
right hand a beautiful basket of tulips, and in her 
left a huge bouquet of violets.) Well, here J am, 
with my frankincense and myrrh! (She gives an 
hysterical giggle and teeters forward toward Mrs. 
Ritter.) Oh, there you are, Frederick Ritter! We 
thought something had happened to you! Pauline, 
dear child, I’ve come to worship at your shrine. (She 
places the basket of tulips down on the floor to the 
left of Mrs. Ritter, then siraightens up, regards 
Mrs. RITTER, giggles frantically, and looks over at 
RITTER.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 169 


Mrs. Ritter. (Laughing wanly, and trying gen- 
erally not to appear as though she'd been crying) 
You’ve been very sweet. 

Mrs. Fett. Not half so sweet as you were on 
that stage tonight! (Speaking confidentially, and 
with great conviction) Dear child, you’re made! 
Absolutely made! (Turning to Ritter.) Isn’t she, 
Frederick? (But he’s busy getting rid of some ashes 
in the fireplace, so she returns to Mrs. R1tTeER.) It’s 
one of those overnight things that one reads about! 
(She picks up the basket of tulips from the floor and 
teeters around above the table.) Dear me, look at 
this wilderness of flowers! (She sets the basket on 
the table.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Trying not to cry) Yes, yes, 
aren't they beautiful? (She darts a look at Rit- 
TER. ) 

Mrs. Fett. (Rapturously) Not another word | 
until I’ve kissed you! (She kisses her on the left 
side of the head.) Oh, you sweet child! (She shakes 
Mrs. Ritter by the shoulders.) What can I say to 
you? (Then she teeters to the middle of the room, 
addressing RITTER directly.) See here, young man! 
Why aren’t you just pelting your wife with these 
flowers? (He tries to hide his appreciation of the 
situation by turning away his head.) Answer me! 
(He bursts out laughing, and Netty teeters back 
toward Mrs. Ritter.) My dear, the man is so 
_ pleased he can’t talk! (RuitTTER laughs a little more.) 
And if you were any other woman but his wife, 
Paula, he’d be sending you mash-notes! (RITTER 
begins to laugh again, and NELLY teeters toward 
him.) Oh, you can laugh all you like, Frederick 
Ritter, but you can’t fool Nelly Fell! (She comes 
back toward Mrs. Ritter, addressing her.) I’ve 
had three husbands—I know their tricks. (She’ 
places her finger on Mrs. Ritter’s shoulder.) Paul- 
ine, dear child, you may be sure that that young man 


170 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


is proud of you tonight if he never was before. 
(Mrs. Ritter tries to laugh.) And when he gets 
you alone (Mrs. Rirter’s attempt at laughter 
as instantly abandoned, and she gives a startled glance 
toward RITTER, who turns away to his left and goes 
up toward the mantelpiece.) Oh, when he gets you 
alone! (Mrs. FEL turns slowly and looks toward 
RITTER, with a roguish expression and a measured 
shaking of her finger at him.) He’s going to tell you 
you were the loveliest thing that ever stepped on a 
stage. If he hasn’t done so already. Have you, 
Frederick? (She looks at him with a mischievous 
eye.) Have you? (He laughs, at the irony of the 
situation. She crosses toward him.) Come on, fess 
up!—I know the position is difficult! (He laughs 
hard, and she laughs with him; then turns back to 
Mrs. RitTer. JENNY comes in from the right hall- 
way.) You see, my dear, the man is so pleased he 
‘can’t talk! (She sees JENNY passing along the hall- 
way and steps quickly up to the center door.) Oh, 
Jenny dear! Will you take these violets out and put 
them in some water? 

Jenny. (Taking the violets) Yes,ma’m. (Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI enters at the left door, with a glass of 
water.) 

Mrs. Fett. I’m afraid theyll be all withered. 
(JENNY continues on into the left hallway. Mrs. 
FELL turns around into the room again.) Where’s 
Mrs. P.? (Sees Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) Oh, there 
you are! I was just wondering where you were. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Crossing above the table at 
the left, toward Mrs. Ritter) Did you get the 
smelling-salts, Jenny? 


Jenny. Yes, ma’m; I gave them to Mrs. Ritter. 


(She goes out at the left hallway.) 
Mrs. Ritter. Yes, Betty, I have them. 
Mrs. Fett. (Coming a step or two forward) 


OO a 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 171 


Well, Betty, you see we managed to get them all 
here. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Back of the table below the 
piano, and at Mrs, Ritter’s left) Here, try and 
drink this, Paula. (Mrs. Ritter takes the water 
and tries to drink it; and Mrs. PAMPINELLI leans 
solicitously over her. There is a pause.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Coming anxiously down at Mrs. 
RitTer’s left) What’s the matter? (She looks at 
Mrs. PAamMPINeELti.) Is Paula sick? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Straightening up, and very 
imperiously) The critic—has been giving his im- 
pressions of our play. 

Mrs. Fett. Who? (She turns toward RITTER.) 
This critic here, you mean? (She indicates RITTER 
and then looks at Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI inclines her head, with the suggestion of a 
derisive smile, and passes up to the center door. 
Mrs. FELL crosses quickly toward RiTTER.) What 
have you been saying, Frederick Ritter? Huh? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Laying the glass of water down 
on the table) Oh, what does it matter, Nelly, what 
he’s been saying! 

Mrs. Fett. (Turning sharply to Mrs. Ritter) 
What? i 

Mrs. Ritter. (Trying not to cry) I say—I say— 
(She bursts into tears.) 1 say, what does it matter 
what he’s been saying! 

Mrs. Fett. It doesn’t matter in the least, as far 
as I’m concerned—(Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns at the 
center door and comes forward slowly in the middle 
of the room)—there’s only one thing he could say, 
if he told the truth. 

Mrs. Pampinetii. (Laying her hand on Mrs. 
Feti’s left arm) Eleanor, dear child,—husbands 
are not always particular about telling the truth—- 
where the abilities of their wives are concerned. If 
I had listened to the promptings of my own soul, 


172 THE TORCH-BEARERS % 


instead of to my husband, when I was a younger 
woman, I should in all probability be one of the 
leading figures in the American Theatre today. But 
I was fool enough, like a lot of other women, to 
believe that my husband had my welfare at heart,— 
when the fact of the matter was, as I see it now, 
when it’s too late—he was simply jealous of my 
artistic promise. (The cuckoo clock strikes the mid- 
night hour. Ritter turns and looks up at it, then 
glances at Mrs. PAMPINELLI. She is looking up at 
the clock distrustfully. Mrs. FELL raises her eyes 
discreetly to it, then drops them to the floor.) Why, 
the night I played Hazel Kirke, I had my best friends 
in tears: yet, when I returned from the hall, and 
the entire town of Cohoes ringing with my name,— 
my husband had the effrontery to tell me that I was 
so terrific he was obliged to leave the hall before the 
end of the first act. So—— (She turns to Mrs. 
RITTER)—if this gentleman here has set himself 
up as your critic, Paula—remember my story,—the 
actress without honor in her own house. (She 
sweeps across below the piano to the window.) Is 
my car out here, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. (Moving over a bit toward Mrs. 
RitTTER) Yes, it’s there. I told Matthew he needn't 
bother coming back for me, that you’d take me home. 
(Mrs. Ritter begins to cry softly, and Mrs. FeLi 
steps to her left and puts her hand on her shoulder.) 
Don’t do that, Paula. (She turns sharply and goes 
toward RitTER.) What was the matter with that 
performance, Frederick Ritter? 

Ritter. (Over at the left, below the mantelpiece) 
Why, they didn’t even know their lines! 

Mrs. Ritter. (Straightening up abruptly and 
looking at him, reproachfully) Oh! 

Mrs. PamMPINELLI. (Turning sharply from the 
window) That is a falsehood! They ran over 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 173 


every line last night, right here in this room,—and 
they knew—practically all of them. 

Ritter. What good was that, if they couldn’t re- 
member them on the stage? 


(Mrs. RitTER and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


Mrs. Ritter. (To Ritter) I could remember 
them on the stage! (Turning to Mrs. PAMPINELLI) 
I never missed one line! 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. (To Ritter) They could re- 
member them on the stage! (To Mrs. Ritter) Not 
a line. 

Ritter. She and that other woman sat there 
blinking at the audience like a couple of sparrow- 
hawks. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. They did nothing of the kind. 

Mrs. Fett. Of course they didn’t! 

Ritter. (Speaking directly to Mrs. FELL) How 
do you know? You weren’t out there. 

Mrs. Ferri. I could see them through the scen- 
ery, couldn’t I? And they didn’t look anything like 
a couple of sparrow-hawks,—as you say. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Contemptuously) Well, as 
I have never seen a couple of sparrow-hawks, I can- 
not appreciate the comparison. 

Ritter. Well, you’d have seen a couple tonight, 
if you’d been with me. 

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, don’t argue with him, Betty! 
He’s only trying to be smart. 

Ritter. Why didn’t one of they say something? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What could they have said? 

Ritter. Why, any commonplace! It’d have been 
better than just sitting there blinking. (Mrs. Rit- 
TER weeps.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. One can’t be commonplace in 
high comedy. 


174 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Ritter. Was that what it was? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Bitterly) What did you 
think it was? 

Ritter. (Turning and going up to the center 
door) Yow tell her, Nelly; I haven’t got the heart. 

Mrs. Fetr. (Moving a litle toward the right) 
You bold thing! (NELLY is wearing the gown she 
wore in the preceding act, and a heavy cloak of old 
rose-colored velvet. She lays her hand on Mrs. 
RitTEr’s left shoulder.) Don’t let him upset you 
this way, Paula. (There is a little pause. RITTER 
turns at the center door and comes forward again 
at the left.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI.. (Picking up her fan from 
the piano) I suppose you would have eclipsed Ed- 
win Booth, if you had been up there. 

Ritter. Well, I’d have known better than to sit 
there blinking at the audience. - 


Mrs. Ritter. (Turning sharply to him) I didn’t 


blink at the audience. 

Mrs. Fett. Don’t answer him, honey. 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. What could they have done 
under the circumstances? 

Ritter. Why, they could have covered it up!—if 
they’d had any brains. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Covered it up with what? 

Ritter. Why, with anything! Impromptu con- 
versation! (Mrs. Fetu looks at Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
and smiles pityingly.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI, And have the audience laugh 
at them? 

Ritter. They laughed anyhow, didn’t they? 

Mrs. Fett. (Taking a step or two toward him) 
That was not their fault! 

Ritter. (To Netty) Whose fault was it? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Imperiously, and moving 
over to a point above the table at which Mrs. RITTER 
is sitting) It was Mr. Spindler’s fault. 


we 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 175 - 


Ritter. Mr. Spindler. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. He promised to attend to the 
various properties and he did not attend to them — 
There was supposed to be a pen and ink on the desk 
for Mrs. Rush to leave a note for Doctor Arling- 
ton ;—and when Paula sat down to write the note, 
there was no pen—and no ink. So she simply had 
to go on sitting there until Mr. Spearing went off 
and got them. 

Ritter. I thought he’d left town. 

Mrs. Fett. Oh, he wasn’t gone so very long, 
Frederick Ritter! 

Mrs. PAmpINELLI. (Bitterly, to Mrs. FEL.) 
Not five minutes. 

Ritter. J thought the show’d be over before he’d 
get back. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. The door wouldn’t open when 
he attempted to go back, so he was obliged to go 
around to the other side. (She illustrates the cir- 
cumstance by waving her fan in a circular gesture 
about the table. RitTTER bursts out laughing. NELLY 
glares at him, then looks to Mrs. PAMPINELLI, who, 
with a deadly, level look, turns and moves haughtily 
up toward the center door.) 

Ritter. What happened to the skinny guy’s mus- 
tache, that it kept falling off every other line? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to him, up near the 
center door) It only fell off twice—don’t exagger- 
ate. (RITTER laughs again.) 

Mrs. Fett. You bold thing! 

Ritter. How many times was it supposed to fall 
off ? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, what if it fell off a 
dozen times,—everybody knew it wasn’t real! (He 
roars.) 

Mrs. Feri. It’s a lucky thing for you, Frederick 
Ritter, that you’re not my husband! 

Ritter. (Quictly) That goes both ways, Nelly. 


176 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. FELL. (Moving across toward him) Well, 
—when you do something that you’ll get so many 
flowers that my limousine will have to make three 
trips to get them to the various hospitals—we may 
pay more attention to what you have to say. (She 
turns away and moves back toward the center of the 
room, where Mrs. PAMPINELLI ts just moving for- 
ward from the center door.) 

Ritter. I suppose most of the audience have 
gone with the flowers, haven’t they? (NELLY whirls 
round to retort, but Mrs. PAMPINELLI lays a re- 
straining hand upon her right arm.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With immortal authority) 
Don’t answer him, Eleanor—‘‘Envy loves a lofty 
mark.” The next time we have a part that calls for 
a very limited intelligence, we'll engage Mr. Ritter 
for it. (She moves a little down to the right toward 
Mrs. RITTER.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Looking at Ritter) Now! 

Ritrer. (Casually) Well, if you do, he’ll know 
how to walk across the stage without tripping every 
other step. 

Mrs. Fett. Who tripped every other step? 

Ritter. (Indicating his wife) The weeping- 
willow there. (Mrs. RitTER begins to weep afresh. ) 

Mrs. Fett. It’s a wonder to me you're not afraid 
to lie so! 

Ritter. She tripped when she first came through 
the door! I was looking right at her. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to him) She didn’t 
fall, did she? 


Ritter. No, but it looked for a while there as — 


though she were going to. (Mrs. RITTER’s weep- 
ing becomes audible again.) I very nearly had heart 
failure. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. (Laying her hand on PAuta’s 
shoulder) Don’t mind him, Paula. 

Ritter. She tripped when she came on the stage, 


—— eo 


i ed ee a ee 


OLT a8vg 2ag (SUauVvaAg-HOWO] JH I,, 


* 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 477 


she tripped when she went off, and she tripped over 
the rug when she went over to the desk! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With measured fiality) 
She didn’t trip any oftener than anybody else. (He 
laughs.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Directly to Ritter) No, nor half 
so often as some of the others——(Turning toward 
Mrs. PAMPINELLI)—now that you speak of it! 
(She turns and goes up to the hallway.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I will admit that Mr. Hosse- 
frosse is a bit unsteady,—but that is due to his weak 
ankles. 

Ritter. What was the star’s unsteadiness due 
to? 

Mrs. Ritter. The rugs! 

Ritter. (Looking at her keenly) What? 


(Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. PAMPINELLI together.) 


Mrs. Ritter. The rugs. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Moving to the center of the 
room) The rugs! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Those funny rugs—that they 
have down there. We didn’t use them at the rehear- 
sals,—and, naturally, when it came to the perform- 
ance,—Paula wasn’t accustomed to them. 

Ritter. She was accustomed to rugs at home, 
wasn’t she? 

Mrs. PampInetii. (Tersely) Well, she wasn’t 
at home on the stage. 

Ritter. (With a gesture of complete acquiescence, 
and moving up toward the center door) ‘That’s my 
argument in a nutshell. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI stands 
frozen in the middle of the room, with an expression 
very much as though she were trying mentally to as- 
sassinate him. He comes back down again at the 
left, to his former position) Why, I couldn’t hear 
two-thirds of what she said. 


178 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Well, evidently there were 
many people there who could hear what she said, for 
they laughed at all her points. (She turns and goes 
to the piano, where she picks up several roses. Mrs. 
FELL comes forward through the center door and 
down toward the piano.) 

Ritter. I wanted to laugh, too, but I was afraid 
somebody’d turn around and see me. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning to Mrs. RITTER) 
Are you ready, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fetr. Yes, I’m ready. 

Mrs. Ritter. Are you going, Betty? 

Mrs. PampINELLI. Yes, I must, darling; it’s get- 
ting late. (She places her hand on Mrs. RItTTER’s 
shoulder.) Good night, dear. (She passes up to- 
ward the center door.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Good night, Betty. 

Mrs. Fett. (Laying her hand on Mrs. RitTTer’s 
shoulder) Good night, Paula child. 

Mrs. Ritter. Good night, Nelly. (NELtLy fol- 
lows Mrs. PAMPINELLI.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Stopping in the center door 
and turning to RitTER) Perhaps, at our next per- 
formance,—Mr. Ritter will favor us with the benefit 
of some of his suggestrons. (She regards him with a 
touch of lofty amusement. He turns his head to- 
ward her and looks at her with a kind of mischievous 
squint. ) 

Ritter. (Quite pleasantly) There aren’t going 
to be any more performances, Mrs. Pampinelli, as 
far as anybody in this house is concerned. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (After a steady pause) No? 
(He inclines his head in quiet emphasis.) 

Ritter. Not until there’s a change in the man- 
agement. (There is another taut pause.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Coldly) Really? (He m- 
clines his head again.) Then, I’m afraid we shan’t 
have you with us, Mr. Ritter. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 179 


Ritter. (Smiling) I know very well you won't 
have me with you. And as far as Mrs. Ritter’s con- 
cerned,—she’s got a very good home here—and I 
love her ; and any time she feels any dramatic instinct 
coming on, there’s a very nice, roomy attic upstairs, 
and she can go up there and lock the door, and no- 
body’ll ever see or hear her. But if she ever gets 
mixed up again in anything like that atrocity I saw 
tonight,—I’m through. (He speaks the last words 
with quiet definiteness, and turns toward the door at 
the left.) And she'll get killed in the bargain. (He 
hits the door open with the palm of his hand and 
_ goes out. There is a slight pause, then NELLY FELL 
crosses quickly toward the mantelpiece, addressing 
RITTER as she goes.) 

Mrs. Fett. Why, Fred Ritter!—I’ve heard you 
say yourself that you were in favor of a Little Thea- 
atre in this city! 

Ritter. (Coming in again through the door at the 
left, carrying his overcoat, derby and scarf) So I 
am! I say so again. (He stops inside the door.) 
But in the light of that cataclysm tonight, you'll par- 
don me if I add that I do not see the connection. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Stepping forward to the mid- 
dle of the room and challenging him with a lift of 
her head and brows) What did you expect to see, 
Mr. Ritter,—a finished performance from a group 
of comparative amateurs? 

Ritter. I expected to see something almost as 
bad as what I saw ;—that’s the reason I fainted last 
night and was unconscious for twenty-four hours at 
the prospect of it. (He turns to Mrs. FELL and 
speaks quite colloquially) And that’s the first time 
in my life I’ve ever fainted. (NELLY gives him a 
look and turns her head away. ) 

Mrs. Ritter. Don’t mind him, Betty,—he’s only 
trying to show off. 

Mrs. PAmPpinetyi. (With bitter amusement) No, 


180 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


but I’m a bit curious—to know just how Mr. Ritter 
would expect to accomplish the establishment of a 
Little Theatre here, unless through the medium of 
such performances at this one this evening. How 
else is our local talent to be discovered—or devel- 
oped ? 

Ritrer. Well; I’m equally curious, Mrs. Pampin- 
elli, as to your exact qualifications—as a discoverer 
or developer of talent for the theatre. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. That is a very familiar atti- 
tude. People who do things—are constantly having 
their ability to do them called into question. (She 
moves a step further forward and toward Mrs. R1t- 
TER. ) 

Ritter. I’m afraid that’s something you’ve read 
somewhere. (She glares at him.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. The theatre is a matter of in- 
stinct. 

Ritter. The theatre is a matter of qualifications, 
—the same as any other profession; and it will only 
be through those particular qualifications that your 
Little Theatre will ever be brought about. (He 
crosses over in front of Mrs. FELL and up toward 
the center door.) 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. Well, perhaps you will come 
to the rescue ;—you seem so familiar with the vari- 
ous necessities of the Little Theatre. (He stops, just 
to the left of the center door, and looks at Mrs. Pam~ 
PINELLI straight.) 

Ritter. (Quietly) Iam also familiar, Mrs. Pam- 
pinelli, with a little remark that Mr. Napoleon made 
on one occasion, a long time ago ;—about the immor- 
ality of assuming a position for which one is unquali- 
fied. (There ts a pause,—he settles his coat on his 
arm, then moves slowly out through the center door 
into the hallway; while Mrs. PAMPINELLI, with an 
expression of eternal exclusion, moves over between 
the piano and the table toward the window.) 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 181 


Mrs. Ritter. (Turning) Fred Ritter, where are 
you going? 

Ritter. (Lighting his cigar in the halway, just 
outside the center door) I haven’t the faintest idea. 
But I shouldn’t be surprised if I’d go on the stage. 

Mrs. Fett. (Standing back of the armchair at 
the left) One star is enough in the family. 

RitTEr. (Bowing very graciously to her) Ap- 
plause—(She turns away and looks straight ahead. 
Then RitTER bows toward Mrs. PAMPINELLI)—and 
great laughter—(Mrs. PaMPiINELLI isn’t looking at 
him, but she knows that that ts meant for her, so she 
simply moves another step or two toward the win- 
dow. Mrs. Ritter turns to see what RITTER ts do- 
ing. He takes a step and leans forward toward her, 
speaking rather confidentially )—followed by booing. 
(She turns back again and starts to cry, while he con- 
tinues out into the right hallway and up the stairs. 
As he mounts the stairs, he holds aloft his lighted 
cigar, after the fashion of a zealous bearer of the 
torch.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Picking up the orchids from 
the table below the window) Paula, you should 
have Jenny put these orchids in water; they keep 
ever so long in a cool place. (She comes across to- 
ward the left, below the piano.) 

Mrs, Ritter. Will you call her, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. (Crossing to meet Mrs. PampPin- 
ELLI) Give them to me, Betty. I'll take them out 
to her. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI gives her the orchids.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Tell her to put them in a cool 
place. (NELLY starts up for the center door. The 
telephone-bell rings.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Will you answer that, Nelly? 

Mrs. Fett. (Setting the orchids down on the 
chair in the left hallway) Certainly, darling. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Standing back of Mrs. Rit- 


a 


182 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


TER’s chair) If it’s anything concerning the play, I 
shall be at home on Tuesday «t two 

Mrs. Fett. (At the telephone) Yes?—Yes?— 
Who ?—-oh,—well, wait just one moment, please. 

Mrs, PamPpiINELLI. What is it? 

Mrs. Fett. (Holding the transmitter against her 
bosom «nd leaning over the partition toward Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI) It’s the Star Moving Picture Com- 
pany. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. What do they want? 

Mrs. Fett. They want the address of Mrs. Rit- 
ter’s manager. (Mrs. PAMPINELLI gives a quick 
look at Mrs. RITTER.) 

Mrs. PamPINneLLI. (To Mrs. Ritter) I antici- 
pated this. (She goes quickly toward the center door, 
laying her fan and roses on the left partition-seat, as 
she passes out into the hallway.) Give it to mie, 
Nelly. (Netty hands her the telephone, and, picking 
up the orchids from the chair, tiptoes back of Mrs. 
PAMPINELLI and in through the center door.) 

Mrs. FELL. (Jn an excited whisper to Mrs. Rit- 
TER) What did I tell you! (She giggles nervously, 
shakes her finger at Mrs. Ritter, and then watches 
Mrs. PaMPINELLI eagerly.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Into the telephone) Hello 
—hello—This is Mrs. Ritter’s manager speaking. 
Mrs. Pampinelli. Pampinelli. Mrs. J. Duro Pam- 
pinelli. Capital P—a—m, p—i—n, e—double 1—~i.— 
Correct. Yes—I see—I see—Well, how do you 
mean, a thousand dollars, a thousand dollars a day, 
or a thous I see. Well, just one moment, 
please. (She lowers the telephone and leans toward 
Mrs. RITTER, speaking in a subdued tone) The Star 
Moving Picture Company wants to know if Mrs. 
Ritter will appear in a special production of tonight’s 
play before the camera. 

Mrs. Fetxt. (Narrowing her left eye) What's 
the figure? 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 183 


Mrs. PAMPINELLI. One thousand dollars per 
week. 

Mrs. Fett. (Definitely) Fifteen hundred. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Into the telephone) Hello— 
nello! 

Mrs. Ritter. (Rising) Maybe I’d better talk to 
them. 

Mrs. Fett. (Suggesting with a gesture that she 
be quiet and resume her chair) Please, dear. (Mrs. 
- RITTER meekly sits down again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. - (Into the telephone) Why, 
I’m sorry,—but Mrs. Ritter does not appear under 
fifteen hundred dollars per week. 

Mrs. Fett. (Watching her shrewdly) Net! 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI turns and looks at her sharply, 
and NELLY emphasizes what she said by inclining 
her head; then Mrs. PAMPINELLI speaks into the 
telephone again.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Net. 

Mrs. Fett. (To Mrs. PAMPINELLI) It’s a bar- 
gain at that. (She nods toward Mrs. RITTER.) 

Mrs. PamPINELLI. (Into telephone) Twelve- 
fifty? 

Mrs. Fett. No compromise. 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Into telephone) Well, just 
one moment. (Covering the transmitter and speak- 
ing to Mrs. Fett) Twelve-fifty is offered. 

Mrs. Fett. (Definitely) Fifteen hundred dol- 
jars. They'll lift it. ; 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Turning back to the tele- 
phone) Why, I’m very sorry,—but Mrs, Ritter posi- 
tively does not appear under fifteen hundred dollars. 
(NELLY inclines her head toward her.) Net. Well, 
how do you mean satisfactory? Satisfactory at our 
figure? (Mrs. Pamprinetii glances at Mrs. FeLi 
and Mrs. Fett glances at Mrs. RITTER.) 

Mrs. Fett. (To Mrs. PamPiINneLt1) Sign! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Into the telephone) Very 


coe 
184 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


weli, then,—signed at fifteen hundred dollars per 
week,——. 

Mrs. Fett. Net! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (Into the telephone) Net! 
And Mrs. Ritter appears. (She stands holding the 
telephone and listening.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Whirling round and teetering down 
to Pauta) Our STAR! I always said it! (She 
shakes Mrs. Ritter by the shoulders.) J always 
said it! (She whirls round and teeters up toward 
the center door.) Haven't I always said it, Betty? 
(Mrs. PAMPINELLI is listening on the telephone, and 
tries, by dint of thrusting the telephone toward 
NELLY, to silence her. But NELty is irrepressible.) 
That it was only a question of time? (She turns 
and flies down toward Mrs. RITTER again.) We 
must telephone Mrs. Livingston at once, Paula! 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. Be quiet, Nelly, be quiet! 

Mrs. Fett. (Rushing up toward the center door 
again) She’ll be so interested! We must call up 
Mrs. Livingston right away, Betty! 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Please, Nelly! (NELLY ts si- 
lenced. Mrs. PAMPINELLI listens sharply, NELLY 
and Mrs. Ritter watching her; and there is a dead 
pause.) Beg pardon? (There is another slight 
pause; and then Mrs. PAMPINELLI utters an abrupt 
shriek and sets down the telephone.) 

Mrs, Fett. What is it, Betty? (Mrs. Pamprin- 
ELLI looks ai her, then straight ahead.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. (With venomous enuncia- 
tion) It’s Ritter! (Mrs. Ritrer rises slowly.) 

Mrs, Fev. Ritter? (Mrs. PAMPINELLI doesn’t 
stir.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Addressing Mrs. PAMPINELLI) 
Fred? 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. I recognized his voice. (She 
moves along the left hallway and comes in through 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 185 


‘he center door and forward, a little to thé left of 
he center of the room.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Up just to the right of the center 
door) Why, where is he? 

Mrs. RitrEr. (Beginning to cry) He oust be 
on the extension upstairs. (NELLY listens keenly.) 

Mrs. Fer. It is he; I hear him laughing. (She 
crosses down to the door at the left.) 

Mrs. Pampinetii. (Taking a step toward Mrs. 
Ritter) Sit down, Paula. (Mrs. Ritrer sits 
down, rests her elbows on the table and weeps bit- 
_ terly. NELLY stops over at the door and turns.) 

Mrs. Fett. (Positively) Paula,—if he were my 
husband, I should lose no time in having him ar- 
rested. (She goes out, at the left door.) 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. (Standing back of Mrs. Rit- 
#£R’S chair) Paula, dear, I do hope that you are 
not going to allow Mr. Ritter’s flippancies to discour- 
age you. (Pauta clasps her hands in her lap and 
looks tearfully at the backs of them.) The way of 
the essential artist is always hard; and so very fre- 
quently the most serious obstacles are those to be 
encountered at home. 

Mrs. Ritter. But, I feel so unsuccessful. 

Mrs. PaAMPINELLI. I know, dear—I know exactly 
how you feel. But you must go on. Just remem- 
ber that art is the highest expression of truth,—and 
you cannot fail. For you have everything in your 
favor, Paula. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Weakly) Thank you. 

Mrs. PaMPINELLI. And the masses need you, 
dear; you are an altogether new note in the the- 
atre. 

Mrs. Ritter. But—I don’t know whether Fred’ll 
want me to go on any more—(Mrs. PaMPINELLI 
suddenly becomes very still and stoney, and looks 
down at Mrs. RITTER with merciless inquiry. Mrs. 


186 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


RITTER senses the change and turns hastily to ex- 
plain)—the way he spoke. 

Mrs, PAMPINELLI. And, do you mean that you 
will allow him to step you, Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. (Breaking down under Mrs. Pam- 
PINELLI’s frozen amusement) Well, of course, he’s 
my husband, Betty. (She cries. Mrs. PAMPINELLI 
regards her with a kind of pained toleration; and 
settles her cloak, preparatory to going.) 

Mrs. PAMPINELLI. Very well, then, Paula—if 
you feel that way about it, I should advise you to 
keep him; and I shan’t waste any more of my time 
encouraging you. (She sweeps around to her left 
and up towards the center door.) There are far too 
many who are only too willing to make the necessary 
sacrifices without being urged. (She picks up her 
fan and roses from the partition-seat, lays them 
across her left arm, and turns regnantly to Mrs. Rit- 
TER.) Only remember this, Paula,—there will be 
actresses when husbands are a thing of the past. 
(She sweeps out through the center door and out 
into the right hallway. There is a slight pause; then 
NELLY FELL comes in at the left door. She misses 
Mrs, PAMPINELLI.) 

Mrs. Fett. Where is Mrs. P., Paula? 

Mrs. Ritter. She’s just gone out to the car, 
Nelly. 

Mrs. FEtv. (Siooping to pick up one of the chrys- 
anthemums from the floor) Do you mind if I take 
one of these flowers, Paula? (She stands in the 
middle of the room, holding it, and looking at Mrs. 
Ritter.) I want it for my dramatic shrine. 

Mrs. Ritter. You can take them all if you like. 

Mrs. Fett. Why, what would you do, dear? 

Mrs. Ritter. I don’t want them. 

Mrs. Fett. (Crossing toward her) Now, you 
mustn’t feel like that, Paula Ritter. 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 187 


Mrs. Ritter. (Having all she can do to keep from 
crying) I just can’t help it. 

Mrs. Fett. I see in your husband’s attitude— 
nothing but a desperate attempt to save his home ;— 
for he must know what your performance tonight 
will inevitably lead to. (Mrs. RITTER turns with a 
puzaled expression and looks at her.) 

Mrs. Ritter. I don’t understand what you mean, 
Nelly. 

Mrs. Fert. Why, you must go to New York, 
dear; you can do nothing dramatically here. 

Mrs. Ritter. But, I have a husband. 

Mrs. Fett. (Very casually) Every married wo- 
man has that cross, darling. But you mustn’t let it 
stand in the way of your career; he would very soon 
eliminate you, if you stood in the way of Ais. 

Mrs. Ritter. But, I don’t like the thought of 
breaking up his home, Nelly. (NELLY gives a hard, 
knowing little laugh.) 

Mrs. Fert. Don’t be unnecessarily sacrificial, dar- 
ling. I made that mistake with my first two hus- 
bands; but I was wiser with the third. And I said 
to him, immediately we returned from the church, I 
said, “Now, Leonard, you and I have just been made 
one; and J am that ene.” (She touches herself on 
the breast-bone with her forefinger, then touches 
Pauta on the left shoulder.) And it worked out 
beautifully. So be sensible, darling. (She skips up 
toward the hallway.) I must run along—Mrs. Pam- 
pinelli’s waiting! (She teeters out through the cen- 
ter door into the right hallway.) Cheerio, Paula 
darling ! 

Mrs. Ritter. .Good night. 

Mrs. Fett. Cheerio! (She giggles and vanishes 
into the right hallway. Mrs. Ritter sits still for a 
second, looking from side to side, at nothing, particu- 
larly, and presently gets up. The horseshoe of 
“SUCCESS” over in front of the mantelpiece 


188 THE TORCH-BEARERS 


catches her eye, and she wanders slowly toward it. 
But the irony of it all overcomes her and she com- 
mences to cry again. RITTER appears at the head of 
the stairs and starts down. She turns and looks at 
him, as he comes through the center door.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Fred Ritter, those women will 
never come inside that door again, the way you talked 
to them. (He moves to the piano and leans against 
it.) 

Ritter. Well, I don’t suppose that'll make very 
much difference. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking straight ahead) Well, it 
should make a difference. 

Ritrer. They’d hardly come here to see me, any- 
way. 

Mrs. RitTer. Well, they’d come to see me. 

RiTTER. But you won’t be here. (She turns and 
looks at him blankly.) 

Mrs. Ritter. Why,—what—what do you mean, 
I won’t be here? 

Ritrer. (With a touch of delicacy) Why, aren’t 
you going on with The Work? 

Mrs. Ritter. Well, I don’t want to go unless you 
want me to. 

Ritrer. But, I do want you to. I don’t think a 
talent like yours should be hidden—(He looks 
straight out, thoughtfully)—it’s too unique. 

Mrs. Ritter. I thought you said a while ago you 
didn’t like me? 

Ritter. (Raising his left hand and crossing over 
and down in front of her toward the armchair at the 
left) You mustn’t hold me responsible for what I 
said a while ago—(He stops back of the armchair 
and rests his hand upon the back of it )—I was panic- 
stricken at the thought of having my home broken 
up. (She moves down to the center of the room.) 
But I’ve been thinking it over upstairs, and I’ve con- 
cluded that it’s more important that the world should 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 189 


see you act than that I should have a home to come 
to. 

Mrs. Ritter. But, I don’t like the thought of 
breaking up your home, Fred. 

Ritter. (Raising his right hand to her with a 
touch of solemnity) You mustn’t consider me in the 
matter at all, dear. Every great gift has its victim— 
and I am, in a way, rather happy—to find myself 
chosen the victim of yours. 

Mrs. Ritter. What would you do, if I were to 

o? 

Ritter. (With the faintest shade of classic pose) 
I'd go with you; you’d need someone to look after 
the flowers—see that they got to the various hospi- 
tals all right. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking away out) I might not 
like it, after I’d get there. 

Ritter. Maybe not. I suppose fame becomes 
monotonous like everything else. But, I wouldn’t 
want you in the future to look back and feel that I 
had stood in your way. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Carefully) No, Fred,—I really 
don’t know whether I want to be a great actress or 
not. 

Ritrer. But, you are a great actress, dear. 

Mrs. Ritter. Thank you. 

Ritter. (Indicating the anchor of roses down at 
the left) Look at this anchor,—of hope. (He steps 
back and picks up the horseshoe.) And this horse- 
shoe of “SUCCESS.” (He brings it forward and 
sets it down just to Mrs. Ritter’s left. Then he 
steps across in front of it, takes her hand and slips 
his right arm around her waist.) And I think, 
Paula, it might be a very sensible move, to just let 
the public remember you as a great actress—as they 
saw you tonight—at your best. 

Mrs. Ritter. (Looking wistfully straight ahead) 
Do you think they will remember, Fred? 


THE TORCH-BEARERS 


Ritter. (Inclining his head, with a suggestion of 
the obsequious) Yes, I think they will. (Curtain.) 

Mrs. Ritter. (Turning and sinking into his 
arms) You're awfully sweet, Fred. 


THE END OF THE PLAY 


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TISH 


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® females. Interior. Modern costumes. 
__. Here are Mary Roberts Rinehart’s most famous stories made 


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» “into an hilarious play. Tish is a middle-aged spinster, blunt, 
outspoken, and entirely lovable. Tish with Lizzie and Aggie, 
_ © her two boon companions, starts on a motor tour in the south- 
2 west. It ends somewhat abruptly when Tish drives the car 
’ ® through Luther Hopkins’s plate glass. window. This little in- 
¥ © cident starts a series of mad accidents through which Tish 
3 


Sails with flying colors. She tries to recover the money stolen 
from the hotel. She is mistaken for an international female 
spy. Whether she is trying to help Aggie recover her lost teeth 
or straighten out the tangled romances of the young couples 
Tish is on the spot getting people out of one difficulty and 
into another, Tish as a character and a play will delight your 
audiences. Following close upon the heels of her great suc- 
cesses “Anne of Green Gables” and “The Trail of the Lonesome 
Pine,” Alice Chadwicke has scored another bullseye with 
“Tish.” If you relish laughter, you simply mustn't miss ““Tish.” 


(Royalty, $25.00.) Price, 75 cents. 


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FRECKLES 


_ Comedy-drama. 3 acts. By Rose Warner. 6 males, 
8 females. Interior. Modern costumes. 


Here is a spirited dramatization of the Gene Stratton-Porter 
novel which headed the list of best sellers for years. To the 
Duncan house in the Limberlost country comes Freckles, a lad 
who knows no other name. McLean is the operator of a large 
lumber mill and being hardpressed to find a man to guard his 
valuable trees, he hires Freckles fur the job. In the camp are 

_ two men who plan to steal most of the trees, and they try 
to involve Freckles in their plans. In protecting McLean’s in- 
terests Freckles almost loses his life, and in the end the mystery 
surrounding his birth is cleared up in a startling manner. 
Freckles is then free to marry the girl of his choice, Angel, 
_ whom he calls his “swamp angel.” Smashing climaxes, fast 
action, and comedy make this an excellent play for schools. 


4 (Royalty, $25.00.) Price, 75 cents. 


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MAN BITES DC 

Comedy. 3 acts. By Frederick Ja 
7 females. Interior. Modern cost 

Mr. Crane has two daughters and a son ¥ 
stand economy. When Carolla, who is going 
brings Corisande into the house to decoral 
to the tune of some thousands, Crane deci 
sande and see if something can’t be done 
gance. She tells him that he ought to turn the 
over to the children and present his bills to 
conditions they will find out what makes th 
go around. He follows her suggestion. The 
tangle, and the children are forced to call in 
standby in their father’s office. He becomes their 
tator after Crane has suddenly eloped with Coris 
father comes home, he finds the wedding is 

lace in the greatest simplicity—not even any 

Mr. Crane steps baci. into. the governing seat 

wedding comes off with the proper sort of celeb 
an excellent comedy for high schools. 


(Royalty, $25.00.) Price, 75 cents. 


SORORITY HOUSE 
Comedy. 3 acts. By Mary Coyle Chase. 7 


Sorority House is the story of Lew Wyckoff, small 
ily dressed, pool room owner, his daughter, Alice, a 
happened to them during one brief period of rush 
had worked for a year to come to college. An edu 
what she wanted. She knew the sororities were as far ; 
her as the stars. You had to have money, pull, pre 
to make one. One week and Alice had become like al 
freshman girls; frantic, crazed, hysterical. A sore 
the most important thing in the world—next 
the college smoothie she had met and loved a) 
she didn’t “rate” that bid, To get it Alice turned 
upside down and Lew’s heart along with it. W 
in one class she Jearned a lesson she would never 
in Bud’s arms, And Lew—he learned somethin 
all parents must someday learn, although he 
on to the pronunciation of the Greek word w: 
about. Sorority House is released as a motion p 
Anne Shirley. i 

(Royalty, $25.00.) Price, 75 cents. 


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